


Salvation

by notgonslave (wedontslave)



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Angst and Drama, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cute, Drama, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29294697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wedontslave/pseuds/notgonslave
Summary: After having her heart broken in the cruellest way and getting abandoned by everyone she loved, Santana hightailed it to the other side of the country. Little did she know that there, far away from home, a girl was going to change her life. A girl with a short mop of blonde hair, ethereal hazel eyes and the cutest smile.
Relationships: Quinn Fabray/Santana Lopez
Comments: 49
Kudos: 73





	1. Part I: Chapter 1

Maybe hightailing it to the other side of the country, doing a major that was way out of her comfort zone was not the best idea.

She was sick of crying every single night in bed. She had had way too much pride: she refused to apologise to the person she loved the most and now, Brittany was gone. Brittany was still back in California, doing a prestigious internship in a dance studio in San Diego. And guess where Santana got that information from. Mike Chang of all people. Guess Brittany was really out of her life now. Santana hasn’t even seen or heard Brittany’s voice since June, when they had the messiest breakup known to man.

A month later, Santana had done what she had feared the most, what Brittany had wanted the most: out herself to her way-too-religious family. But guess what? She got kicked out.

She probably shouldn’t have been too surprised: she kind of saw it coming as soon as her father’s eyes narrowed when she dropped the L word. It couldn’t have gone worse; her mother was too docile to do anything about it while she packed a measly suitcase and got thrown into the tumultuous storm outside their house, all by herself, unwanted.

She had desperately dialled the number she memorised long ago, only to find out that the number was no longer active.

Brittany left her a month ago then, and Santana had lost her chance long ago. Now, in the stark July air, she was left with no family, no lover, and no money. She had nowhere to go.

Thankfully, she was able to stay at a friend’s house for the rest of the summer, before she spent the last of her savings on a series of train tickets all the way to New Haven, to Yale. That friend, surprisingly, was Tina.

Santana really regretted how she acted towards some people in her power-hungry climb to the top. Because really, the only friends she had were what she called ‘losers’.

But still, her grades were good enough to speak for her abilities and she managed to get into Yale with an 85% scholarship, which put her under a lot less strain. She was so grateful for that. It allowed her to turn down the full scholarship she got to medical school and go a completely different path to what her parents would’ve wanted.

She didn’t know as much about architecture as she did medicine. But she just really wanted to put the past behind her, bury the pain of her parents, as well as Brittany, abandoning her and have a fresh start.

Which brought her to now. Her first day at Yale, and it was already not a good start.

Where to start? Her roommate, who ran by the name of Rachel Barbra Berry. She had this unhealthy obsession with Barbra Streisand, and would not stop running her huge mouth about that hippo of a woman; Santana had a feeling that Rachel just adopted the name Barbra as her middle name just because of that diva. On top of that, Rachel was the most egotistical bitch ever. It was just her horrendous luck that she had to get the worst roommate possible, wasn’t it? Under normal circumstances, Rachel would’ve already gotten a horrible, Santana-style verbal beatdown, but since Santana was desperate to climb out of the shell she was in in high school, have a fresh start, and become a better person, she kept the snark to herself.

She moved in about half a week ago, and thankfully she has already scored a job as a waitress in a diner about twenty minutes’ walk away from campus. It paid nearly minimum wage, but at this point, anything was good enough to help her put food on the table and to pay for the rent of this shabby apartment with a shabbier roommate.

Santana rubbed at her forehead as she brought her mind away from the events that transpired these past few months. The past four months have been the worst of her life by far, and she just hoped that her days at Yale would be better for her. After all, the only way was up, right?

Since it was the first day, the lecture this morning was mainly induction. Her professor handed every one of them some kind of brochure and a huge folder which briefly detailed the work that she was going to get stuck into this year. Flipping through the brochure quickly, Santana was pleased that she didn’t go to medical school now. She could vent all her feelings through the artistic nature of her major, and she didn’t need to be imprisoned with Chemistry and the likes, which she secretly hated but had no gut to tell her parents.

Unfortunately, she didn’t speak to anyone. Of all the reasons, and she could hardly believe it herself, it was because she was too shy. She felt that if she went and initiated a conversation, they would see the true colours behind the mask of her mocha eyes and leave, just like everyone else that was supposed to love her. Plus, she wouldn’t want to intrude on them anyway: they all seemed to know each other already and were already having a lot of fun. Santana was not mean enough to take that away from them. She did way too much of that in high school.

And now, she was eating alone at the corner of the canteen far away from the crowd, and she was surprised to find that she liked it. She didn’t mind some peace and quiet, she definitely needed that with Rachel living in the same room as her and the extremely loud kitchen screaming that she would no doubt hear when she’ll be working night shifts. She was due to start this weekend, and she was not looking forward to it at all.

The food wasn’t that bad at all. There were some mashed potatoes with gravy, a mixture of cabbage, sweetcorn, and carrots as the viridescent component, topped off with pigs in blanket rolled in coatings of bacon. The dessert was a nice-looking sponge cake with crème fraîche. She could get used to this, but she just knew that because it was the first day, the food was better than usual to set a good first impression. Still, it didn’t mean that she couldn’t enjoy the food. In her solitude, Santana picked up a piece of pigs in blanket and placed it into her mouth, careful to not get any gravy onto her collar. She couldn’t afford another shirt.

It was delicious.

Santana closed her eyes and savoured the sensation – she had way too much Asian food during the summer and since she hightailed it to New Haven she had been living on canned food (Rachel refused to share any of her vegan shit with her) so she probably enjoyed eating this more than she should’ve.

Her brief moment of oblivion was abruptly truncated by a loud squeal from the serving area of the canteen all the way on the other side. Snapping her eyes open, she turned towards the source of the voice and saw a blonde girl with short hair standing frozen near the serving area, cowering slightly under all the attention.

Even though some people returned to their conversation after having seen that no one died, a black girl, presumably the blonde girl’s friend, spoke up.

“Sorry guys, she just really likes bacon.”

The stark silence around the canteen was gone, and the canteen was back to life, the way it was before the girl squealed in what Santana perceived to be excitement.

It reminded her of Brittany’s enthusiasm. And that caused mild pain to settle in her heart.

Santana squinted slightly to see the blonde girl who was cutely blushing, holding a tray of food and making her way to an empty table with the same black girl and another blonde boy who had large guppy lips. They began talking, chatting like a normal group of young adults, laughing their guts out.

Santana could not take her eyes off the blonde girl, whose cute blush was starting to fade. She couldn’t see very clearly from here because she was so far away, but that blonde girl carried an aura of elegance and charm that left Santana ensorcelled.

Santana found that she wanted to get to know the short-haired girl’s name, and she didn’t really know why.

* * *

Santana was right. The food was getting worse with each passing day, and by the end of the week, all they served was some bland rice with a sorry excuse for a curry. But since Santana was really hungry, she had to settle for eating every last grain of rice, because she wasn’t sure Rachel would be so kind to share her bitter salad again after Santana spat it out straight into the diva’s face.

Even though the food was very bad, she found lunchtime to still be one of her favourite times of the day. It even trumped her morning lectures, probably because every single day, the trio of friends would be sitting at the same table, eating their food, chatting happily.

Santana paid no attention to the black girl and the boy with a trouty mouth though, because she focused her attention on the blonde girl who got a little overexcited at the pigs in blankets on the first day. She still had not seen her up close, but she was able to get a good look at the girl yesterday when she was just five places behind her in the queue. It was close enough to hear her smooth and lilting voice, close enough to see her alluring hazel eyes. They were incredibly beautiful. Also, she got to hear the blonde’s laugh, it was a cute little _hee-hee_ sound and it was enough to melt Santana’s heart. Almost enough to make her forget the pain Brittany caused her.

She probably shouldn’t be doing this, staring at the beautiful blonde from a distance like a creeper, but she couldn’t help herself. She wanted to be able to muster up the courage to talk to the blonde, give that ethereal face a name, learn what she was majoring in, but if Santana didn’t even have the courage to speak to her architecture colleagues, how was she going to talk to that beautiful girl?

All things said however, Santana was happy to settle for watching that girl from a distance. It felt like a bright beam of light that was lighting up her dark interior, loosening her up, making her _slightly_ less miserable.

She may be crushing. But she had to be careful not to get in too deep. She was probably not going to talk to this girl anyway, through all these years in college.

The girl suddenly stopped talking and looked in her direction.

Santana blanched and quickly ducked her head, burying herself in the guise of eating horrible Thai curry.

* * *

It was her second week in Yale, and Santana was already exhausted. Who knew waitressing was such a nightmare? All those ungrateful customers, all the rush and panic that was in the kitchen. And all of that for what? A measly wage that was barely enough to cover the rest of her tuition fee. She was eating quite a lot of money with her accommodation too, and Rachel was hardly sympathetic.

That fucking bitch basically has the room to herself with how much Santana was working, she could at least pay 70% of the rent or something! Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.

She knew Brittany hated that word, but Brittany wasn’t here anymore. So she could say it as much as she wanted to.

Stupid!

She was running on six-hour sleep, and she felt that it was going to be less because waitressing wasn’t making her enough money. The horrible food she has been eating is making her tired and sick, and she needed help with rent. She decided that she was going to look for another job this weekend. She’ll give herself two more days of semi-happiness before all her free time goes down the drain and her life goes to hell.

The tuna pasta on her tray looked bleak as she made it to her sanctuary: the familiar, peaceful spot at the corner of the canteen, far away from everyone. Even though it had been a week, she had still not made any friends or talked to anyone really at all – she knew that she was being very antisocial and should not cut herself from social life at the beginning of college life, but truth be told, she was too tired and friends was not a luxury that she could afford.

She knew that her mother would argue the point, saying that she should actively be seeking conversations and taking part in extra-curricular activities… oh wait, she didn’t have a mother anymore.

She didn’t have the time for extra-curriculars anyway… workload was intense as it was, her job was also very time-consuming, she had no time for those kinds of things.

At least it was lunchtime, which meant one thing, right?

And sure, there she was, chatting with the black girl and Trouty Mouth (yes, Santana has already given him a nickname) at their usual table, eating her tuna pasta with poise and elegance.

Over the past three days, she had really wanted to walk over and strike up a conversation with this girl, because that would make her day, but she never mustered the courage. Because that girl was going to disappoint and break her eventually, like everyone did in this miserable world.

Santana sighed forlornly and turned her attention back to the food, stabbing at it angrily. The tuna pasta was horrible – the least Yale could do was serve some better food! She was in college, for heaven’s sake, this wasn’t school! They have got to serve better meals in here.

Santana raised her head to look at the table again, but she realised that the gorgeous blonde girl was no longer there. Frowning slightly, she craned her neck, hoping for a glimpse of the girl, but she was nowhere in sight. Her friends were still there, however. She probably finished lunch and left.

And now Santana didn’t even have anything to look at.

Santana slapped down her fork, frustrated, unwilling to shovel any more food into her mouth. She figured that she would spend the tips she got last shift and treat herself to some proper food at a local store – she deserved it. Her mind made, she swivelled her legs out of the chair so that she could get out and tip the food away. However, as soon as her legs were no longer under the table, she felt something kick it. It was quickly followed by a yelp and the sight of a body tumbling to the floor.

For a very brief moment, Santana had considered letting the person fall. It was their fault for being foolish enough to trip on her legs anyway. But then the idea of becoming a better person and having a fresh start came into play, so she surged forward and caught the person by the waist before they could fall and drop all of their food.

The person’s chest was heaving, probably from the temporary shock of tripping. Santana slowly panned her vision upwards, and when she saw the person’s face, she could swear that her heart stopped.

It was the blonde girl.

Oh god. Her hazel eyes were so beautiful, so hypnotising. There were even little specks of green in them… her rosy cheeks, her perfect lips…

She didn’t know how much time passed, just them in that awkward position, staring at each other. But then the girl broke out of her trance and righted herself.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled with a shy smile, cheeks pinking cutely. God, that voice! She could listen to it all day.

“N-No worries,” Santana replied. What… what? She never stuttered before in her life! Well, maybe in front of Brittany, but that was a whole another matter!

“Thank you for saving my food,” the blonde’s cheeks flushed even more as she set her tray down on the table, adjusting her clothes. “I can be very clumsy sometimes,” she continued, flustered.

“No, it was kind of my fault for tripping you up,” Santana shrugged.

The girl smiled bashfully before she slid the tray to the opposite side of the table and plopped herself down on the seat opposite the brunette.

“Um… you’re staying?” Santana said dubiously.

“Yeah,” the girl chirped. “Is that okay? I want to talk to you, you look like you need someone to talk to,” she shrugged.

“Do I?” Santana asked.

“Mm-hmm.” The blonde picked up her fork and placed a piece of pasta in her mouth. “You’re always alone here, and you always look sad.”

“Oh,” Santana breathed. She didn’t know that anyone noticed, let alone the girl she had been staring at the past week. She just figured that she was invisible because she sat far away from everyone.

“So,” the girl perked up. “I don’t think we’re in the same faculty. What do you study?”

“Architecture,” Santana mumbled in response. She wondered how the girl would react if she said she was studying something like medicine. Subjects like that were more prestigious, that was for sure.

“Really?” the blonde raised an eyebrow. “That’s so cool! I do law.”

Law. Well, this blonde girl must be very smart then.

“Oh, shucks! I still haven’t introduced myself yet. I’m Quinn,” Quinn smiled, holding out her hand.

Quinn. A gorgeous name for a gorgeous woman.

“Santana,” Santana replied, taking the blonde’s hand.

She could swear that she felt a spark of electricity run from her fingertips through her whole system when their hands came into contact.

The cutest smile was back on Quinn’s lips as she started to babble away at what her lectures were like, and Santana found herself smiling, drawn into this happy girl.

And that was not a good thing. She was falling. She was just setting herself up to have her heart broken again.

She was in so much trouble.


	2. Part I: Chapter 2

Santana swallowed hard as she trudged through the dark tarmac floors, duffle bags and suitcase trudging behind her wake, dragging slightly in the wet, rough floor. She wiped a bead of sweat from her face… or was it her tears? The rain? She didn’t know anything anymore, everything in front of her was a haze, a turbid canvas. She didn’t know where she was, she didn’t know what to do now. Her parents just disowned her, she couldn’t possibly go to medical school anymore, could she? But what about right now? Where would she even stay? Would she have to sleep on the floor tonight?

With trembling fingers, she set down her luggage on the wet concrete floor and fished out her phone from her front pocket, tapping away at the screen frantically. Her fingers were wet and the screen couldn’t detect her taps, and the tears and rain that were falling onto the LED screen were not helping matters.

“Come on, come on,” Santana whimpered as she desperately wiped her hand and the phone against her hoodie, trying to dry it. When the touch screen was finally responsive, she opened up Dialler immediately and typed in the digits that she had memorised a long time ago and could never forget.

“Brittany, please, pick up, pick up, I’m so sorry…”

Two rings. Three rings. Automated voice.

“Sorry, but the number you are calling is no longer active –”

With a choked sob, Santana pressed the end call button and slumped against the wall. Brittany gave her until the end of June to out herself. Now it was late July. She was too late, Brittany had changed her number. When she needed Brittany the most, Brittany was gone. For good now. And it was all Santana’s fault, for being a coward, for falling for her best friend, for being a lesbian.

Santana buried her face into her hoodie and let out a loud, muffled scream. She had no idea what to do. She was going to starve to death on the streets.

There wasn’t a point anymore.

Santana hurled the item that was in her hand as far and hard as she could, and only felt slight satisfaction when her expensive phone shattered into a million pieces against the brick wall on the other side. Just like her heart.

Santana slid down the wall until her butt hit the muddy floor, staining her jeans but she didn’t care. She was sure that she was crying now, because her eyes were stinging with salty tears.

She stayed like that for a while, and it could’ve been an hour before she heard a voice.

“Santana?”

Santana jerked and looked up, and there, standing under an umbrella, was Tina.

* * *

Santana rubbed her eyes as the sunlight penetrated through the curtains, straight onto her bed. She sat up groggily, trying to get rid of the sleep that was still in her system. Opening her eyes with effort, she looked towards the right where the digital clock stood: 6:52 AM.

Ugh. It was just a dream. She probably should’ve known that when she was in the dream, after all, she had that dream a million times already through August and the start of September. Even then, reliving through the worst day of her life did not hurt any less with every time she had the same dream.

It was a cycle. Sometimes she would dream about the good times with Brittany, but that was very rare. Normally it was their fights where Brittany would give her an uncharacteristic verbal beatdown, or their breakup, or the aftermath of their breakup.

She wished more than anything to dream about something else. Like… Quinn for example. She still remembered how they talked for the whole lunchtime yesterday – it was enough to make Santana’s day, no matter how horrible her life was. To be honest, thinking about the short-haired blonde was already putting a smile on her face, despite the nightmare she just had.

Santana put on a jacket as she made her way out of the bedroom, making her way to the kitchen. She was very hungry after having worked slightly overtime in her diner the night previous, and also tired because she only had five and a half hours of sleep. She wouldn’t mind something warm to eat, like the pack of instant noodles she bought the day before as a treat.

When she opened the cupboard, the bag she had remembered putting there in that exact spot was not there. Creasing her eyebrows slightly, she dug around the other cupboards, trying to catch sight of the bright yellow bag of instant noodles that she was looking forward to eating as a break from all the canned shit she had been eating recently.

She was halfway through the scour when she saw that the kettle was placed on the counter. Narrowing her eyes, she stalked towards the living room, and sure, there that little shit was, sitting at the table.

“What the fuck, Berry?” Santana had to try very hard to not scream and slit her throat right there and then.

Rachel jerked and fixed Santana with an irritated look. “Morning to you too, Santana. I see you have finally gotten up on time.”

“That thing you’re eating right there,” Santana growled, pointing at the bowl of noodles that Rachel was eating. “Is mine. _I_ paid for it, you can’t just eat my food!”

“What, this?” Rachel said with a small chuckle, gesturing at the bowl. “It’s good. And it’s vegan too. Who knew you had such good taste, Santana?”

“Did you hear a word I just said?” Santana exploded. “It’s mine! You can’t just… ugh–”

“Why do you care so much?” Rachel set down her spoon. “It’s petty, it’s just something you can get from the corner store for two dollars at most.”

Santana stood there, fuming, staring at the dwarf before her. She wanted to scream that two dollars meant a lot more to her than Rachel may think it did – money did not come easy when you were not on fucking student loan, have to work night shifts, and have rent and college fees to pay on top of everything. Every single cent counted.

“I can give it back if you really want,” Rachel continued. “I just started eating, you’re not missing out on much.”

Initially, Santana’s pride told her to just let it go, it wasn’t like she was completely broke and couldn’t afford another meal. But then she thought about her bills and how she needed a second job to pay them. She should not overlook all the petty things – they would add up and bite her in the end.

So, she swallowed her pride and replied, much quieter this time, almost ashamed:

“Yes,” she conceded. “Can I have it back, please, Rachel?”

Rachel seemed surprised at Santana’s answer, but she didn’t object. She slid the bowl to the other side of the table obediently.

Santana slumped down on the chair, deflated, and picked up the spoon that Rachel had been using. She didn’t even care that it had the annoying hobbit’s spit all over it.

“Please don’t steal from me again,” Santana sighed as she satiated her rumbling stomach with hot noodles. “It may seem petty to you, but it isn’t to me.”

Rachel frowned and leaned forward, and if Santana had to say, she almost looked worried. It was a weird look on the shorter brunette, because normally all that existed in her world was herself.

“Is there something going on, Santana? I might talk a lot, but I believe you’ll find me a surprisingly good listener.”

Santana chuckled mirthlessly.

“Nothing,” Santana slurped on the soup with the instant noodle. “Nothing at all.”

* * *

Thanks to her pathetic excuse of a roommate, Santana’s mood had been foul through the whole walk to campus. At least she got her food back, but it just went to show how pathetic her life was now. She was practically grovelling for cheap food – if she told her fifteen-year-old self that her life would turn out to be this way, the HBIC would just laugh.

The fact that she had to swallow her pride for Rachel of all people made her hate everyone in the world even more. She had no love in her life: what parents who genuinely loved their child would throw them into the wild when they revealed a deeply-harboured secret that they had no control of? She had tried so hard to impress her father, getting top marks in her exams and getting a full ride to medical school on scholarship, and she had thought it was enough for her fucking homophobic father to overlook her sexuality. But no. It was not enough. Nothing will ever be.

And Brittany too. What fucking girlfriend who said that they would be in love forever would ditch her like that? Brittany didn’t love her. She probably never did.

Fuck Brittany. Fuck her family. Fuck everyone.

She didn’t even know why she was making her life so difficult. She didn’t have to work a night job (soon to be two) if she didn’t go to Yale. She could just go out there in the real world and become a hairdresser or something.

Not that she regretted being in Yale, though. She didn’t want to live her whole life in pain, being fucked up by the shitty jobs she would have to endure until she was old and wrinkly because she didn’t have a degree.

Plus, she met Quinn. That was enough to make it worth it.

Right?

She was so hopeless. She would probably never talk to Quinn ever again – Quinn had no reason to talk to her again anyway. They were studying different stuff, Quinn had her own group of friends, Santana was just in the blonde’s long list of nobodies.

Fuck her life.

“Are you okay?” a high-pitched voice next to her said. “You’re gripping your pencil very hard, I’m inwardly cringing in anticipation of the moment when it would finally snap.”

Santana jolted and fixed her gaze on the boy who just talked to her. She didn’t even know someone had come to sit next to her while the professor droned about trigonometry and how it could be applied in construction.

She subconsciously loosened her grip on the pencil and mustered her best attempt at a comforting smile, but she felt it was more like a grimace.

“Yeah,” was all Santana said.

“Relationship problems?” the boy continued. Santana inwardly chuckled. If only he knew. Yes, relationship problems, among many other things. “What’s the girl’s name?”

That made Santana jump. Did he – how did he know? Was she so obvious?

“Don’t worry,” the boy winked, “I have a sixth sense for people who swing like me, if you know what I mean,” he winked again.

“You’re gay?” Santana spluttered. She wasn’t sure why that was what came out of her mouth, but there you go.

“Mm-hmm,” he grinned. “You’re not an obvious one though, if that’s what you’re worried about. You see that girl there,” he whispered conspiratorially, pointing to a ginger girl sitting a few rows in front of them. “She’s so obvious. She’s leering at that girl right… there,” he pointed to another girl.

Santana traced their lines of vision. He was right. They were obviously going to be such simps for each other, just like she was for Brittany… no, let’s not go there.

Anywhere but there.

“You okay?” his voice jolted her out of her thoughts again. “You always look sad, did you get forced into architecture or something?”

Did she really look that miserable? It was the second time in two days that someone said she looked sad.

“No, I didn’t get forced into architecture,” Santana responded, twirling her pencil with a sigh. “It’s just a lot of personal problems that I’m going through right now.”

He nodded in understanding. “I won’t pry, because I know it’s not my business, but know that if you need someone to talk to, Santana, I’m here, okay?”

Hold on a second.

“You know my name?” Santana raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you’re in my class, why wouldn’t I?” he said with a furrow of his eyebrows. “Do you not know mine?”

Santana couldn’t really do much other than shake her head.

“Probably should’ve guessed that, considering you sit away from everyone every time,” he chuckled. “I’m Kurt. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too?”

Kurt smiled. “Probably should catch up on the notes, we’re a bit behind now,” he suggested. Santana nodded and picked up her pencil.

“Hey, Santana?” Kurt said again a few minutes into their quiet note-taking.

“Yeah?” Santana said.

“Look, if you’re worried about… being a lesbian and all, don’t. I was too, I come from a small town where everyone is homophobic, New Haven is very accepting, believe me. Don’t be afraid.”

“It’s not that I’m worried about being gay,” Santana replied. “Well, maybe, since that’s the source of my problems, but that’s beside the point. But thank you anyway, Kurt.”

Kurt merely grinned before diverting his attention back to the board.

Santana didn’t know why, but her first thought after all this gay talk was whether Quinn was gay or not. Not that she was saying that she ever stood a chance with the blonde, but… it couldn’t hurt to know, right?

It was times like this when she really wished she had better gaydar.

* * *

At least God was being nicer to her by blessing her with better cafeteria food today. After the utter disaster of the tuna pasta, it wouldn’t be too far of a stretch to say that the kitchen staff had received more than one complaint and were now striving to make edible meals.

When she collected her share of some kind of sticky risotto that looked appetising, she made her way towards her usual corner in the canteen. It had become some kind of a safe space for her in a weird way – it was quiet there, which she needed given that the kitchen was so incredibly loud at her diner and Rachel was also very loud, as she liked to sing in the shower, when she was doing her assignment, even when she was in bed.

Rachel did thankfully have a nice voice so it wasn’t completely atrocious, but like… just shut up, will you?

As she was weaving her way through the crowds, she caught sight of the table where Quinn was normally sitting, and her heart sunk when she saw that the blonde was not there. The fish-lipped boy and the black girl were there though… but where on earth was Quinn? She needed her daily dose of Quinn if she wanted to make it through the day! She liked watching the blonde from a distance.

And now she was officially a creep.

Blinking the thoughts of the blonde away, Santana trudged on towards the corner, only to find that there was a silhouette on _her_ seat.

Who the hell would steal her seat in the darkest area of the canteen, away from everyone else?

Still, Santana persevered and kept going, even considering kicking the person away from her safe space when upon a closer look she recognised who it was.

She could recognise that short mop of adorable blonde hair from everywhere.

Why was Quinn sitting at her table?

“Quinn?” Santana questioned when she slid her tray on the table, settling herself on the seat opposite the blonde.

Hey, she might have social anxiety, but she would never turn down an opportunity to talk to her crush!

Oh, she just admitted that Quinn was her crush… oh well. It was true anyway. Quinn was incredibly pretty.

Quinn perked up as soon as Santana sat down. “Santana!” she enthused. “You’re here!”

“Yeah…” Santana gave a slightly weird look. “Um, what are you doing here? Your friends are waiting for you back there,” she gestured in the vague direction of where the blonde boy and black girl were sitting.

“I-I know,” Quinn said with a nervous smile. “But I kind of want to talk to you again, is that okay?”

Santana gaped at the blonde. Quinn wanted to talk to her again?

Quinn probably misinterpreted Santana’s silence. “Uh… don’t worry.” Her face fell as she rushed to pick up her tray, flustered. “You probably don’t want me here, I’m intruding in your personal space, aren’t I? I’ll leave you be, I’ll go…” she whirled around and in her haste to leave, she nearly tripped over a chair leg and sent herself flying towards the floor again, much like yesterday.

“Wait!” Santana stopped Quinn’s fall to her doom by gripping her wrist before she could even register what she was doing, and the next few seconds were so tense you could slice the tension with a knife.

God, her almond eyes. Quinn was just staring at her with a wide-eyed expression, and they were frozen again, Santana’s hand on her wrist… Quinn’s skin was so warm, so smooth…

“Y-You want me to stay?” Quinn whispered.

Santana nodded.

Quinn’s lips spread into a wide smile, and it was the most amazing thing that Santana had ever seen. That smile was directed towards her!

She could feel her brain short-circuiting. She was pretty sure she never felt this way before, not even with Brittany.

“So… what brings you back here?” Santana asked, regaining a little of her old high-school confidence as she let go of Quinn’s hand (much to her chagrin) and sat back down, shoving a bit of risotto into her mouth. She was glad that it tasted nice.

“No reason,” Quinn shrugged indifferently. “Well, maybe there’s one. I just want to cheer you up! Am I doing a good job at that? I mean… I don’t think that anyone deserves to be alone on their first weeks of college, friends are very important for people of our age, you know? And I just thought that if I came here and talked to you, you might be a bit less sad, and… I’m rambling, aren’t I?” she finished with a cute huff.

Santana gave a genuine laugh for the first time in what seemed like forever. “It’s cute,” she said, speaking without even thinking.

Oh, shit. What the fuck are you doing, Santana? First, you have no game, second, you’re ruining your tentative friendship before it even blossomed. Quinn may not even be gay, for crying out loud!

But… she could be. Maybe she should get Kurt to use his awesome gaydar on this girl.

Quinn’s eyes widened at what Santana said, and after a few seconds, a small red blush appeared on her cheeks which spread slowly, all the way to the tips of her ears.

God, she looked adorable.

“I tend to do that a lot,” she mumbled, poking at her food with her fork. “That, and tripping over random stuff. Sorry about that,” she grumbled. “I do that a lot when I’m nervous.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Santana reassured. Then… hold up, what? “I make you nervous?”

“Huh?” Quinn snapped her head up so fast, before she seemed to realise what she had let slip. The blush deepened even more, if that was even possible. “Oh, um, I said that, didn’t I?” she chuckled in that cute way again, and it made Santana’s heart melt. “Don’t think that I feel nervous because you’re scary to approach, you’re not, not that I thought you were scary in the first place or… don’t think that I’m nervous because I have a… no, um… I didn’t mean, I said, wait, what? Ugh,” she put both her hands on her face, and pouted her lips. “Can we please forget everything I said and restart this conversation? Like, go back in time, please?”

“Okay,” Santana laughed. “Let’s do that.”

“Okay, good,” Quinn took a deep breath, sipped on her water, and composed herself. “Santana!” she enthused. “You’re here!”

Santana grinned at Quinn’s endearing antics. “Right I am,” she said, pretending to set down her tray as if she had just arrived. “So, what brings you back here?”

“No reason,” Quinn shrugged. “Other than the fact that I want to talk to you. Is that okay?”

“Of course,” Santana smiled. “But what about your friends? They’re waiting for you back there.”

“Don’t worry about them,” Quinn waved a hand. “But would you like me to introduce you to them sometime? I feel that they would like you.”

“Sure,” Santana sipped on her water. “Why don’t we do it now?” she suggested, as she was feeling a lot more confident than she did an hour ago.

“Well, you see, I kind of want you to myself, and myself only, for now,” Quinn trailed with a small, bashful smile. “I’ll introduce you to them tomorrow, okay?”

Another guaranteed talk with Quinn tomorrow? Yes!

“Okay,” Santana chuckled.

“Cool!” Quinn mirrored Santana’s smile. Then, being the chatterbox she was (in a good way of course, unlike Rachel), she broke off into tales about how she used to have long hair and why she decided to cut it short and leave it that way.

Quinn was definitely one of the most interesting and alluring people Santana had ever met.

She knew that she shouldn’t be doing this, falling into her charm so easily, especially on the back of immense hurt from a messy breakup with a lifelong friend, but she couldn’t help it.

Maybe it wasn’t a bad thing though. Quinn brought her the happiness that she desperately needed. Quinn was opening her eyes already, starting to lift the heavy load of depression from her shoulders, slowly.

She needed to show Kurt a picture of Quinn, stat, because her gaydar was just not good enough.


	3. Part I: Chapter 3

Santana was incredibly distracted through her morning lecture.

The lecture hall was very big, and she was very desperate to find a certain someone. This was why she was craning her neck as the mechanics professor droned in the background, trying to catch a glimpse of the boy she had talked to the day before.

The lecture had started five minutes ago and he was still nowhere in sight. Santana slumped back down in her seat – the question she had been planning to ask him was festering away in her mind and she was more than desperate to know the answer _now_. She needed Kurt’s awesome gaydar.

Sighing dejectedly after a few more minutes of not finding the person she needed, Santana opened her folder and got out some pieces of paper, ready to take notes. Her hand moved subconsciously, copying what the professor was writing on the board as her mind wandered.

She remembered how yesterday’s lunchtime conversation had ended.

“Shucks,” Quinn had mumbled when she looked at the watch. “My next lecture is in ten minutes, and I need to get my books. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Even she didn’t seem that eager to leave, which helped Santana’s ego.

“Really?” Santana didn’t want Quinn to leave either. They were having such a good conversation! Quinn was really interesting – she was definitely the more talkative one out of the two of them as Santana merely gave one-worded, laconic answers as Quinn babbled away, but it was fine. She liked listening to the short-haired blonde talk.

“Do you not have one?” Quinn raised an eyebrow as she grabbed the fork and set it onto the plate that had been empty for a long time. They were pretty much the only ones left in the canteen now, so it was quite quiet.

“No, I had mine this morning,” Santana answered.

“You architect people,” Quinn huffed. “I had one this morning too, and I have another one! Well, that’s law for you, all those people are so _extra_ ,” she wrinkled her nose. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Santana exhaled and nodded. At least Quinn was willing to talk to her again tomorrow. She had no idea why, but she wasn’t going to complain.

Quinn gave her a warm smile and picked up the tray, getting ready to leave when Santana suddenly remembered something.

“Hey, Quinn?”

Quinn whirled around. “Yeah?” she chirped.

“Can we have a picture?” Santana suggested nervously, gesturing to her phone.

“A picture?” Quinn said, a ghost of a chuckle escaping. “Sure.” She set down her tray and leaned in close to Santana, and Santana had to do her best to stop her cheeks from blushing. Quinn’s face was right next to hers! Their cheeks were nearly touching too, if Santana blushed then Quinn would definitely be able to tell! But then Quinn’s cheeks were quite warm…

Santana snapped the picture and thanked the blonde, then they bade farewell and Quinn left the canteen, Santana watching her slightly swaying hips the whole way.

“Morning!” a voice sang which broke Santana out of her reverie. She looked to the right, and lo and behold, was the boy she had been trying to find the whole time!

“Where were you?” Santana hissed as Kurt got his laptop out and set it on the table. “I’ve been looking for you!”

“Missing me already?” Kurt grinned.

Santana rolled her eyes. “I’m going to ask you a question, and you answer it, okay? Don’t ask any questions, don’t judge.”

“Jeez,” Kurt raised his hand in a surrender position. “Calm down, I’m not going to judge.”

“Right,” Santana swallowed. She fished out her phone from her pocket and opened up the familiar picture she had taken with Quinn the day before. It was familiar because… well, she may have looked at it for a little longer than necessary yesterday night while Rachel sang obnoxiously in the shower.

“So…” Santana gulped to try and get rid of the lump that was forming in her throat. “This girl next to me…” she pointed with a trembling finger at Quinn’s smiling face. “Is she…”

Kurt looked at the picture, confused as to what Santana was getting at, until he understood. “You’re asking – oh…” his eyebrows went higher up his forehead as he busted out into choked laughter.

“What?” Santana demanded as Kurt covered his mouth, guffawing. “Will you quiet down! We’re catching a lot of attention! And you promised you wouldn’t judge me!”

“Sorry,” Kurt wiped his eyes. “It’s just really funny that… what, do you have a crush on her?”

“I said no questions,” Santana snapped. “So, what do you say? Use your sixth sense.”

“Hmm,” Kurt grinned as he looked at the blonde in more scrutiny. “Well, I don’t think you are going to like this. This girl looks straight.”

Quinn is straight? That hurt more than Santana thought it would. Her heart felt as if it was going to break. So she didn’t stand a chance with Quinn, ever.

“S-Straight?” Santana choked.

“I haven’t finished!” Kurt chastised. “This is all merely speculation, my sixth sense works a lot better when I see her in person, but from this picture alone, I think this girl… what’s her name?”

“Quinn,” Santana grumbled.

“Quinn, she looks like the sort of person who has had a very long string of boyfriends. She’s really pretty, which means lots of boys will throw themselves at her, and she would be too nice to refuse. But, that said… while she doesn’t look like she has dated a girl before, she does look like she would be open to dating one.”

“S-She would?” Santana gasped, feeling all hope come back into her heart. “W-What do you mean?”

“I think she’s bicurious,” Kurt shrugged. “Maybe bisexual. That’s my guess. I mean, every single person has a little gay in them, it’s just a matter of how much. You and me, we are pretty much a hundred percent gay. This girl, Quinn? I’d say… thirty percent at least. Maybe even fifty-five.”

“Fifty-five percent?” Santana echoed. “D-Does that mean… I have a chance with her?”

“Whoa, hold up,” Kurt’s grin widened even more. “So you _do_ have a crush on her.”

“Who doesn’t,” Santana grumbled.

“This girl really is something, huh? She transformed you from what, a Gloomy Judy to what you’re now in a matter of days?” Kurt noted.

“I don’t know,” Santana shrugged. “She just makes me happy. She saw me sad in the canteen one day and came to talk to me. I haven’t really been as sad ever since.”

“That’s good,” Kurt grinned. “Well, the best way to know for sure is to ask her. All I can say is… good luck.”

With that, Kurt opened up a document and started typing away, presumably all the things they had missed as the professor kept on talking.

Luck. Santana will need it. Yes, her life was still horrible because of her roommate and her job at the diner on top of all her work, but at least she had something to look forward to every day. Quinn.

* * *

Santana couldn’t help but feel disappointed when she didn’t see a mop of blonde hair at her table in the canteen like yesterday. She didn’t know why she had thought that Quinn was going to be waiting for her at the table, after having talked to each other for two days.

For all she knew, Santana could just be one of many people in Quinn’s long list of friends. She wasn’t going to get special treatment just because Quinn talked to her over two lunchtimes. Maybe Quinn would never speak to her again – she had said two days ago that she only came to cheer Santana up because she looked alone and sad at the corner, and now she had done her job she could go back to being with her friends.

Right, her friends. How could Santana forget to look there?

Setting her tray of bleak food on the table, she craned her neck in pursuit of the blonde by looking for the black girl and the boy with fish lips. And sure, there they were sitting at their usual table.

And Quinn was with them.

Santana tore her eyes away and stared down at her food, having this crushing feeling in her chest that thudded painfully with each heartbeat.

What the fuck was she thinking, that Quinn was going to be willing to date her one day? Santana meant nothing to her. Just a fun somebody to have a conversation with, one of the many new people that Quinn got to know during her first few weeks of college. She wasn’t anyone special. She was a fool for thinking that way.

A tear slid out of Santana’s eye but she wiped it away rapidly. She wasn’t going to cry over something so petty. She knew she shouldn’t have gotten herself drawn in, because every friend she had was built to hurt and disappoint her in the end, but she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t help getting drawn into Quinn, because she was so nice, so wholesome and so pretty. Qualities that Santana didn’t and never will have.

Quinn was way out of her league. She was stupid for ever thinking she had a chance, that she was going to be more than a nameless face Quinn spoke to.

Santana stabbed at the bland bread angrily with her knife and shoved it into her mouth, ignoring how tasteless it was. She was silly for having gotten her hopes up.

Life was just a depressed mess anyway.

“Don’t do that, San, you’ll hurt yourself!”

Santana froze. She could recognise that voice from anywhere.

Quinn gently grabbed Santana’s wrist and removed the knife that was still in Santana’s mouth, then sat down opposite Santana with a huff.

“I’m sorry for being late,” she mumbled. “I was just talking to my friends about you, do you still want to meet them?”

“You remembered?” Santana looked up from her food to meet the most beautiful pair of eyes Santana would ever see in her life.

“Of course!” Quinn frowned. “How can I forget? Um…” Quinn looked down at the bread that had been maimed by the wrath of Santana’s knife. “Are you okay? You looked really distressed when I came over.”

“Yeah,” Santana gulped, feeling a little humiliated for jumping to conclusions too quickly. But it was kind of hard not to do that when everyone you loved had abandoned you. “I-I just saw you with your friends and I thought…”

“You thought I abandoned you?” Quinn questioned worriedly. “Oh, San… I would never do that, believe me, that’s extremely mean. I won’t ditch you, I promise. I was just talking to my friends about how I was going to bring a guest to the table today.”

Santana didn’t say anything; she just nodded.

“So…” Quinn drawled with a small smile pulling at her lips. “Would you like to come with me?”

Santana felt her lips pulling up too. This girl was going to be the death of her, she could swear. She had never felt this way for someone before.

“Okay,” Santana mumbled.

“Okay?” Quinn grinned. “Great! Grab your tray and follow me!”

Quinn’s enthusiasm was infectious. Santana smiled and grabbed her tray, following the short-haired blonde in her wake towards the table Santana had been staring at for the past two weeks.

“And we’re here!” Quinn enthused when they got to their destination. There, the black girl and Trouty Mouth looked up, saw the two girls, and smiled too.

“So, Santana, let me introduce you to my friends, this is Mercedes,” she said, pointing to the black girl, who had a smirk and waved back. “And this is Sam,” she pointed to Trouty Mouth, who smiled when his name was called with those huge lips of his. “Mercedes and Sam, this is the girl I’ve been talking to the past few days, S–”

“Santana, we know,” Mercedes grinned. “Quinn has been talking nonstop about you. At first, she called you Shay, as in you know, Shay Mitchell, but then after the first time she talked to you, she could not go a sentence without saying the word “Santana”! It is quite amazing, you should see how nervous she was the day before she came to talk –”

“That’s enough, Mercedes!” Quinn squeaked. “We’re not here to talk about me!”

“Still,” Mercedes grinned. “It’s really nice to finally talk to you, girl,” she said, leaning forward to wrap her arms around Santana’s body in a warm embrace. “You look like you have quite some badassery in you.”

“Uh…” Santana didn’t really know how to respond to that. “Thanks?”

“Hi Santana, Sam here,” Sam said with that huge mouth of his. Santana was surprised that his voice was not louder than it was, because surely that huge mouth could pack a loud voice. “To finish off what Mercedes failed to finish because of _someone_ ,” he shot an amused look at Quinn who had wide eyes and a faint blush on her cheeks. “She was the person who pointed at you last Tuesday and went like ‘Do you know that girl?’ And when neither of us said yes she kept on going on about how –”

“Sam!” Quinn interrupted. “Why don’t we all sit down, and talk about something else? Um, why don’t you pick the topic, Santana?”

To say Quinn was flustered was an understatement. It was quite funny though.

“Okay…” Santana drawled as she sat down opposite Mercedes and Sam at the table. She was tempted to ask them to continue the story before they got interrupted twice by the topic of their conversation, but she didn’t feel that Quinn, who sat down heavily next to her, would appreciate it. “So, um, how do you guys all know each other?” she settled for.

Quinn seemed to be relieved by Santana’s question as she eagerly jumped in to answer. “Mercedes is my roommate,” she replied. “We moved in a couple of weeks ago in the summer and we kind of clicked right away. She’s a good cook, but I do most of the cooking at night because she never cooks bacon.”

“I don’t get what your deal is with bacon,” Mercedes chuckled with a shake of her head. “The thing about being Quinn’s roommate is that you are often the sole receiver of the tons of things she has to say. And quite recently, they all consisted of a certain brunette who had a name beginning with “S”…”

“Mercedes!” Quinn scolded with an adorable furrow of her eyebrows. “Will you please stop diverting the conversation to… those things? The thing about being Mercedes’ roommate,” Quinn shot back, changing the path of the conversation again. “Is that she sings a lot. Every single day, you hear her singing, whether that be her when she’s cooking, when she’s watching TV, when she’s showering, you name it. Not that I’m complaining, because she’s actually a really good singer,” she finished with a shrug.

“I have a similar problem with my roommate actually,” Santana piped up. “She’s really obnoxious and sings everywhere, even when she’s sleeping. I swear she dreams of being a Broadway star on stage or something, it’s so annoying. She’s a decent singer, but when you hear it daily it kind of gets on your nerves.”

“What’s her name?” Sam questioned, out of curiosity.

“Rachel,” Santana replied.

“Rachel? Rachel Berry?” Mercedes asked, which elicited a nod from Santana. “Oh, hell to the nah, not her! She goes to Yale?”

“Wait, you know her?” Santana said.

“Oh yes, I don’t like her at all, she and I were bitter rivals. She was the lead singer of her show choir group at her school, and I was the lead at mine. I had no idea she was going to Yale too. Small world, huh?”

“I guess,” Santana shrugged. “I can see why you don’t like her. She’s kind of insufferable.”

“Preach,” Mercedes raised her glass of water.

“As for me,” Sam cut in. “Quinn and I go way back. We met in fifth grade and happened to go to the same middle and high school, and now, college. She has pretty much been my best friend through all these years. We’ve kinda been there for each other through all the ups and downs.”

“Really?” Santana raised an eyebrow. Then a question popped up, and she couldn’t help but ask, “You’ve gotta have been her boyfriend at some point, right?”

“Boyfriend?” Sam chuckled. “Nah, she’s like a sister to me. Although, Quinn has had her string of boyfriends, not that she has had much luck in any of them. They usually end messily and I would be there to collect the pieces, and –”

“Um, Sam?” Quinn said quietly. “Can we please not talk about that?”

For the first time since Santana set her eyes on the blonde, Quinn looked pained. Her eyes were dull, and her lips were tightly drawn. Santana had never seen Quinn sad before. She was usually so happy, bubbly, perky. And seeing her not that made Santana instantly want to make her feel better again.

“Sorry,” Sam shot an apologetic smile. “But yeah, Quinn and I have basically been stuck by the hip for all these years. And, I’m pretty proud to say this, but she said that I am her only true friend. But, um, unfortunately, I have to share that title with Mercedes now.”

“Damn right,” Mercedes grinned. “She needs some girl firepower in her life, isn’t that right, Quinnie?”

Quinn merely pursed her lips and nodded.

“So, I was thinking,” Mercedes leaned forward conspiratorially. “Since we haven’t done this in a while and we have a new member in our group, how about we meet up, the four of us, tomorrow morning? It’s the weekend so none of us have any classes, we can just you know, hang out, eat some good food. Does that sound good? You in?”

“Sure,” Sam voiced his assent. “I’m in. What about you, Santana?”

“Uh, yeah,” Santana nodded, a little surprised that she has been included in their friend circle. “Of course.”

“You, Quinn?” Mercedes asked.

Quinn looked up from her food. “Yeah, I’ll come with.”

“It’s a plan then,” Mercedes grinned.

With that, their conversation drifted off for the rest of lunch break, towards various other things. Sam was rather enthusiastic about some films he had watched and some comics and graphic novels he was interested in, and Mercedes liked to talk about Yale gossip and this drama series she recently started watching. Santana missed this, just talking to friends (she could consider Mercedes and Sam to be her friends, right?), so she was also an active participant in the conversation.

Santana was happy, because she made more friends and was looking forward to their meet-up tomorrow. But she couldn’t help but notice how Quinn barely talked for the rest of lunch break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! And pretty please, leave a comment, they are really good motivators and help me push chapters out faster.


	4. Part I: Chapter 4

Santana was glad that she had escaped the abomination that was named Rachel Barbra Berry.

Santana got up bright and early today even after the exhausting night shift at the diner she had last night, because she felt this strange sense of excitement that was bubbling in her system. It made her feel that she had something to live for—that there was hope in her life, even if she was going to scout out for her second job tonight. She had found another place that hopefully paid well… She pushed the thought away, she didn’t want to think about work. She was about to spend a few hours with her new friends, have some fun—she definitely needed it.

When she told Rachel that she was going out, Rachel, having that humongous beak of a nose and sticking it everywhere, had persisted that she knew exactly where Santana was going. Santana, of course, didn’t say that she was going to hang out with some people because more likely than not, Rachel would invite herself to the gathering and the whole thing would be ruined. Especially with the rivalry between her and Mercedes that Mercedes went into great detail about yesterday during lunch.

Santana refused to answer any of the questions and ran out of the apartment before Rachel could flag and drag her down any longer.

And now, Santana was anxiously fixing her attire (she hadn’t spent that long in front of the mirror deciding what to wear because she didn’t have many clothes in the first place) and checking the maps constantly, because she wasn’t that familiar with New Haven and with every new turn, she took she felt as if she was lost.

Mercedes had told her to meet at the entrance of the park that they were planning to go to, so Santana scrutinised the map in a little more detail and when she finally found where Mercedes was talking about, she made the walk towards the destination.

It was about five more minutes before she found herself at the entrance, and when she got there her heart sank when she saw no one she recognised there.

Biting her lip, she looked at maps again to make sure she was at the right place, and she was.

She waited for a few more minutes, and when she ducked her head, thinking that she got stood up by her new friends, she heard someone shout.

“Hey, Santana!”

She raised her head and there, in a navy varsity jacket, came Sam.

Santana felt relief wash through her system—she was not stood up, after all.

“Why are you here already?” Sam asked when he got close enough and stood next to the Latina. “You’re nearly twenty minutes early.”

“Really?” Santana looked at her watch, and saw that Sam was right. She had been so worried that she was going to get lost that she left too early and didn’t even think to look at the time. There was nobody there because she was too early. “Huh, forgot about the time, I guess. I could ask the same about you, why are you here early too?”

“No reason,” Sam shrugged. “I didn’t really have much to do back home, so I decided to go for a walk. I was going to jog a lap around the park, but then I saw you.”

“Makes sense,” Santana gestured at Sam’s varsity jacket. “You do sports around here?”

“Yup, I play midfield in the soccer team, Yale Bulldogs. What about you, are you in any teams?”

“No,” Santana shook her head. “I haven’t even heard of ‘Yale Bulldogs’.”

“You should join one,” Sam encouraged. “It’s really fun, you can make more friends and be sociable,” he grinned.

“I’m not sure if I have the time for it,” Santana drawled.

“That’s the excuse Mercedes gave me when I tried to get her to join some sports teams,” Sam said. “You’re missing out, you really should join one if you have the time.”

“I’ll think about it. What does Quinn do?” Santana asked.

“Tennis,” Sam replied. “I was really surprised when she told me, she hated it in high school.”

Sam was going to say more but a loud shout cut him off.

“ _Gang_!” Within an instant, Mercedes was upon them, hugging Santana briefly. Quinn, who was next to her, did not have such a vibrant reaction but seemed happy, nonetheless.

As Mercedes went to talk to Sam, Quinn walked over and sent Santana a small smile.

“I’m really glad you turned up,” she breathed.

“Thanks for letting me come along,” Santana replied, matching the warm smile. “Even if it’s me fourth-wheeling the whole way.”

“You won’t be fourth-wheeling,” Quinn reassured, leaning in a bit more and hooking her arm with the Latina’s. “I sometimes feel like the third wheel too, we can both be a third wheel together.”

Santana was a little distracted by the proximity of Quinn and the arm that was hooking hers. At first, she mumbled something intelligible, then she cleared her throat and said, “Why do you say that? Are they a couple or something?”

“Pretty much,” Quinn shrugged. “Sam and Mercedes seem closer to each other than to me. It’s okay though, I found myself a new bestie.”

“Bestie?” Santana parroted, a bit dumbfounded.

“Yeah,” Quinn’s cheeks pinked adorably as she flickered her eyes up to meet the brunette’s. “Is that okay?”

Santana merely smiled and nodded. She was surprised that Quinn wanted to be her bestie. The blonde seemed like someone who had a _lot_ of friends, what was so special about Santana?

“Hey girlies!” Mercedes walked over. Her lips curved up into a smirk when her eyes trailed down and saw that Quinn had hooked her arm with Santana’s. “Any preference as to what we are having for lunch today?”

Quinn opened her mouth to speak, but Mercedes held a hand up.

“No, Quinn, we are not having bacon. We literally had some for breakfast. You’re going to get cancer from eating all that red meat.”

Quinn frowned and piped down, letting out a small huff and pouting her lips. Santana suddenly felt a surge of affection for the blonde. She was so cute… not in the way Brittany was though. Still, Santana felt this deep swirling feeling in the pit of her stomach as Quinn shifted next to her.

“I saw this caravan selling tacos on my way here,” Sam suggested. “Should we get that?”

“Sounds good,” Mercedes nodded. “What do you say, Santana? Do you want tacos?”

Santana thought for a moment. “Sure.” Then, she had to ask, “But how much is it?”

“I don’t know, a couple of dollars?” Sam answered.

“San, why do you ask that?” Quinn asked worriedly, still attached next to her.

Santana decided to not answer Quinn’s question. She pursed her lips and nodded, she would treat herself to this one occasion. She was going to get a second job soon anyway, she could afford to. “Alright. We’ll get tacos.”

* * *

“So, Santana,” Mercedes said as they sat down on the grass, in the shade when they found their spot in the park. “What made you do architecture?”

Santana looked up from the can of coke that she was sipping. “How do you know I do architecture?”

“Please, I’m Quinnie’s roommate,” Mercedes dismissed with a wave of her hand. “I know everything. Well, as much as Quinn knows about you, anyway. She talks a lot about you, you know?”

“Right,” Santana shook her head and blinked. “Um, well, I do architecture because I like it, I guess.”

“That’s fair play,” Sam nodded, wiping some sauce from the corners of his huge mouth. “I told my parents that I wanted to major in sports science, but they told me that I’m not going to get anywhere with it unless I wanted to become a masseur or something. Instead, I’m doing electrical engineering, because it is something that I’m vaguely interested in and seems like it could be useful.”

“Mm-hmm,” Santana took a bite of her taco. “But do you wish you did sports science?”

“Not really,” Sam shrugged. “I’m happy with where I’m at right now. What about you? Have you always liked architecture?”

“It’s always been a hobby of mine…” Santana drawled, picking at the stuffing inside the taco. “But no, I wasn’t going to do it for college. I was going to do Medicine at Stanford. I got the scholarship and all, the full ride, but I dropped it last second to come here to do architecture.”

“That’s a crime!” Mercedes gasped. “How can you turn that down?”

“Personal things,” Santana didn’t want to delve too deep into the reasons. “And plus I hated medicine, anyway. My dad really wanted me to do it, and I came here on a show of defiance, I guess.”

“Attagirl!” Mercedes smiled. “Now Santana… guess what I do!”

“You?” Santana thought for a moment. “Honestly, I have no idea. I would guess law?”

“Law?” Mercedes laughed. “Nah, that’s Quinnie. I do Drama.”

“Mercedes is going to star in the play coming out in the second half of the semester,” Quinn piped up, setting her Fanta down. “You should come and watch her with us.”

“It’s only a small part,” Mercedes rolled her eyes. “The first-years never get anything good. It’s fine though, I’ll be the one walking down the red carpet in ten years, you just watch.”

“I have no doubt about that,” Sam grinned.

“Quinn, what about you?” Santana noticed how Quinn was still speaking a lot less than usual. That girl usually had oodles of things to say! “What made you major in law?”

“Believe it or not,” Quinn chuckled. “I was leaning towards film studies, but eventually I settled for law. Because I don’t feel there is enough justice in the world,” she wrinkled her nose.

The other two seemed to be satisfied with Quinn’s answer, for they continued eating without a care in the world. But Santana could detect a slight undertone to what Quinn was saying. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it sounded suspiciously like resentment or even anger. She didn’t pick up on it, however, because she may just be overthinking things.

“I don’t really get why you didn’t do film studies though,” Sam mumbled, mouth full of food. “You were so excited about it too.” He directed the next part towards the Latina. “I swear she sees the world differently through a lens. She’s amazing. She was basically the photographer for my parents’ wedding, and both my siblings’ journeys growing up.”

“Wait,” Santana frowned. “Your parents’ wedding?”

“Yup,” Sam nodded. “They decided to finally get married when they conceived their second child. Quinn and I were thirteen then. You should see the pictures, the lighting and the quality is just…” instead of continuing with words, he did a chef’s kiss.

“Imagine having siblings,” Mercedes rolled her eyes. “You have to share everything.”

“Not if they take everything,” Quinn shrugged, drinking a bit more of her Fanta. “I don’t know, having a sibling has its ups and downs. An upside is that you have someone to look up to.”

“Quinn, Frannie is not someone to look up to,” Sam admonished. “You don’t want to meet Frannie,” Sam told Santana. “She looks like Quinn, but taller, longer hair, sea-green eyes. She’s also scary as heck, she was the head cheerleader in our old high school and she reigned with _terror_. We called her the Ice Queen,” he shuddered. “Quinn, on the other hand, was a much nicer head cheerleader. A bit bitchy, yes, but a cute, docile kitten in comparison to her sister. She quit halfway through senior year, though.”

“What? Why?” Santana looked to her right where Quinn was sitting, staring contemplatively. “Being the head cheerleader is like ultimate status. You don’t know what I would’ve given to be the head cheerleader in my old school.”

“Personal things,” Quinn used Santana’s words with a small, wistful smile. “I didn’t like it. My parents had high expectations of me, you know? They wanted me to be like Frannie. But what they didn’t know was, that once you are at the top of the social ladder, it is hella lonely up there. Yes, you are popular, but nobody likes you for you. They like you, _use_ you for your status. I know what it’s like to be lonely, which is, um, one of the reasons why I decided to keep you company when I saw you sitting alone in the corner.”

“That’s kind of deep,” Mercedes said after a moment of contemplative silence. “You talk a lot, Quinn, but you never told me this.”

“Didn’t feel like it,” was Quinn’s answer.

“Yeah, because all you feel like is talking about Santana nowadays,” Mercedes smirked, taking one last huge bite of her taco and finishing it. “I need a loo break, anyone else needs one?”

“I’ll come, I need one too,” Sam replied, taking one last sip of his coke and standing up too. “What about you guys?”

“Nah, I’ll wait here,” Quinn replied.

“Same,” Santana followed up.

The other two nodded in understanding, before grabbing some rubbish and walking down the park.

“Are you okay?” Santana whispered, turning to Quinn, who had a distant, blank look in her beautiful hazel eyes. “You’ve been awfully quiet since yesterday, when Sam mentioned you had a long string of boy–”

“I’m okay,” Quinn nodded and smiled reassuringly. “Thank you, Santana. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“But… I haven’t done anything,” Santana stuttered.

“Just by being here is enough,” Quinn’s smile grew wider. “You’re the fresh start I needed so desperately.”

“Um… I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry,” Quinn shifted so that her body was facing the brunette’s now. “Um, can I hug you?” she asked shyly, a little awkwardly.

“Uh, sure,” Santana replied, and before she knew it Quinn had closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around Santana’s body.

Santana took a deep inhale at the nape of Quinn’s neck as she closed her eyes, relishing the sensation. Quinn smelled really nice.

“It’s just perfume,” Quinn chuckled. Wait, did she say that aloud? “You smell really nice too, Santana.”

She pulled away and held Santana at arm’s length. Then she let out a cute giggle and bit her lower lip.

“I like you, Santana.”

Santana wanted to question what Quinn meant by that, but before she could open her mouth Mercedes and Sam were back.

* * *

Santana hugged her coat closer to her as she walked down the dark-paved road late at night. She had finished her shift at the diner a little early today because she managed to convince a coworker to cover her shift under the promise that she would help her out another time. And now, at nine in the evening, Santana was standing outside her destination, trying to calm her nerves.

She had been in bars and pubs before under fake IDs when she was underage, but this felt different for some reason.

Swallowing hard, Santana pushed the door open and the heavy stench of alcohol was the first thing she registered when she took the first step inside. Also, it was very noisy.

It was an environment Santana may have loved a few years ago. But now? She didn’t like it.

Still, she persevered through and walked to the bar.

“What can I get for you, young lady?” the cleanly shaved boy behind the counter said smoothly with a devilish smirk.

“I’m here to speak to someone of the name…” she squinted at her slip of paper. “Holliday?”

“Holly?” the boy raised an eyebrow. “Alright, one second.”

The wait was, mercifully, not that long. Before Santana could feel uncomfortable, the boy was back, a long-haired blonde woman trailing in his wake.

“Chica!” the person who must be Holly grinned, nodding to the boy who walked away obediently. “You asked for me?”

“Uh, yes,” Santana said as she looked up at the tall blonde woman. “We talked on the phone, I believe? I’m here looking for a –”

“Ah, yes, you want to work here!” Holly said. “Santana, right?” Santana nodded. “I remember you. How old are you?”

“Nineteen,” Santana replied.

“Nineteen?” Holly echoed. “Congrats! You got the job.”

What? Nothing came so easily. There must be a catch.

“R-Really? That’s it?” Santana gaped.

“Pretty much,” Holly shrugged. “Can you serve?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you make drinks?”

“Not really, I –”

“We’ll teach you. And finally, are you hot?”

“Uh… um…”

“You are,” Holly gave a wide Cheshire grin. “And that’s all you need to work here! Work starts on Monday, nine-thirty through to one. Is that okay with you? Or do you want another shift?”

“Uh…” Santana faltered, still a bit disconcerted. “That should be fine.”

“Alright then!” Holly beamed. “I’ll see you on Monday. Although I have a suggestion for you. You’re dressed like a nun!” she gestured at Santana’s hoodie and her coat. “You know how sometimes people say to keep the change? Yeah, you might get that a _little_ more if you wear some _revealing_ clothing. Show some cleavage and skin, you know?”

“Y-You’re telling me to sell my body for money?” Santana asked, scandalised.

“You’re not selling your body,” Holly reprimanded. “You’re putting your hotness to good use. It’s free money. Consider it. See you on Monday, nine-thirty sharp, she finished with a wink, leaving to go back into her office or something.

Santana walked out of the bar in a daze. She had not expected it to be this easy.

She’ll take it though. It was her second job secured. She would no longer have to worry about her dire financial problems. At the cost of her sanity and her health.

She would have to say goodbye to all her free time, though.

It was worth it, however. If it meant that she could stay in Yale and see Quinn again, her _bestie_ , it was worth it.

She’ll survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I hope you enjoyed this, and please drop a comment! <3


	5. Part I: Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was going to post this on Tuesday, but I already have it written so... here you go. Hope you enjoy! And please read the Author's Note at the end.

**Mid-November**

Santana was happy – she was in blissful, peaceful, dreamless sleep. She was getting the rest she so desperately needed.

But since her name was Santana and life likes to throw everything bad at people with that name, her moment of oblivion had to be disrupted by some demonic screeching.

“SANTANA!”

Santana groaned and threw a pillow in the general direction of the noise. “Shut the fuck up, you gobshitty banshee!”

Rachel wasn’t having any of Santana’s snark. She threw the pillow right back, hitting Santana squarely on the face, which woke her up for real. Frustrated, Santana propped herself on her bed and opened her mocha eyes, about to deliver one personalised Lopez-style verbal beatdown when Rachel’s huge mouth beat her to it.

“Your phone is ringing, get it,” she admonished.

Santana rolled her eyes and did her best to prevent herself from screaming. “You woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me this?” she growled.

“It’s seven in the morning,” Rachel deadpanned. “It’s been ringing the past few days too, do you not check your missed calls?”

“Don’t have the time for that,” Santana grumbled. “Alright, give it here.”

Rachel handed the device with an exasperated huff before turning on her heels and leaving, probably to wear some Jewish schoolgirl outfit.

Without looking at who was calling her, Santana pressed the green accept button and tiredly held it to her ear.

“Hello?” Santana groaned.

“Santana!” a voice chirped. “You finally picked up! It’s so nice to hear your voice again!”

The voice sounded familiar, but through the murky haze of half-consciousness, she couldn’t tell who it was. “Who’s this? Do I know you?”

“You can’t tell? That’s offensive,” the voice gasped. “It’s Tina! How do you not recognise me?”

“Ugh, sorry,” Santana apologised, rubbing her eyes. “Just tired, that’s all.”

“Aw, is Yale giving you a hard time?”

“Nah,” Santana closed her eyes again and flopped back onto the bed. “So, how’s it going, Tina? Is there a reason you’re calling?”

“I’m doing great! I found myself an internship in Seattle in advertising, and I love it! I’m calling to check up on you, is everything okay?”

“Yep,” Santana said with tightly drawn lips. “Just peachy.”

“San…” Tina’s voice grew softer as some of her enthusiasm faded. “You know that you don’t have to pretend anymore, right? Things may be just fine there, in which case I’m sorry for assuming, but I’m worried. You weren’t exactly in the best shape when you left for Yale.”

Santana sighed. “You know what? You’re right. I’m miserable.”

“Do you… wanna talk about it? Maybe I can help?” Tina sounded anxious and tentative, to say the least.

“You can’t,” Santana grumbled as she adjusted the covers on her body. “Architecture is great, but it would be better if I wasn’t so tired all the fucking time. I work two jobs, Tina. I work from six to one in the morning. On top of that, I have assignments that I have to hand in, I have to revise for finals. Tina, I don’t think I can take much more. I sleep five hours a day at most, I don’t think I can keep doing this.”

Santana didn’t know why she was revealing everything to Tina. Maybe it was because she had held it from everyone else – Sam, Mercedes, Quinn, even Rachel. Plus, Tina would understand. Santana didn’t have any more dignity to lose because she lost it all – Tina had seen her at her lowest already.

Tina was quiet for a while. “San…” she mumbled. “Look, I’m so far away and I’m so sorry I can’t come to New Haven to help you, but if it’s financial problems I can do something about that, my parents have given me funds and I don’t need them all –”

“I don’t want your money,” Santana interrupted. “I won’t be able to pay it back. I don’t want to owe anyone anything, I came here because I wanted a fresh start, untie myself from my past.”

Tina exhaled deeply. “What about your friends? Your roommate? They have got to be able to help you, right?”

“My roommate will definitely not help,” Santana huffed. “And no, nobody knows. Plus, I’m not really close with anyone anymore. My second job kind of ruined our friendship before it started, I couldn’t hang out with them anymore because I don’t have time and I feel sick.”

Tina stayed silent for a moment. “Look, maybe you should tell somebody about the problem you have. Yale might be offering bursaries, your friends may help you with accommodation or food, there’s got to be something. Drop your second job, it’s not healthy to be working to one in the morning as a student. Really.”

“I doubt they will offer a bursary to a flunking student,” Santana laughed mirthlessly. “They might even revoke my scholarship after the first year. I don’t know. I’ll try and figure something out.”

“You can do it, Santana,” Tina encouraged. “It will all work out in the end, I promise. I also have some news for you, which is another reason I called.”

“What is it?”

“You know how Mike interns in the same dance studio as Brittany? Brittany has told him to tell me to tell you that she wants to talk to you again. She misses you, Santana, and she said that she is really sorry and is hoping to make amends.”

Hearing Brittany’s name woke Santana up fully and made her heart boil with the extremely old, suppressed feelings of resentment and anger.

“Remember what I said about untying myself from my past?” Santana growled with gritted teeth. “Brittany is in my past. I don’t want anything to do with her.”

“Are you sure? But –”

“But nothing,” Santana snapped. “Does she know where I am? What my new number is? Any of my contact details?”

“No, Mike refused to give it to her without your permission,” Tina answered.

“Good,” Santana snarled. “Keep it that way. Do _not_ tell her I’m in Yale. Tell Mike to tell her that I don’t want to see her ever again.”

“Are you sure?” Tina stuttered. “You loved her once –”

“And I sure as fuck do not love her anymore,” Santana spat. “Tell her that too. I don’t want to see or hear from her again. I need to get ready for my morning lecture. Thanks for calling, Tina.”

“Wait, Santana –” Tina started, but before she could get anything out Santana had ended the call.

Santana curled up into a ball and started to cry. The mention of Brittany’s name made all old wounds reopen, spilling the unadulterated pain into her bloodstream again. It made her remember everything that she had been trying so hard to forget. It made her miss when she was a teenager, when her family still loved her.

She didn’t hear the door open, so when she heard a voice she jumped out of her skin.

“I-Is it true?” Rachel said tentatively, walking forward. “I couldn’t help overhearing everything, is that why you are never home? Why didn’t you ever tell me, I’m your roommate –”

Of course Rachel would stick around to listen to what was none of her business.

“You had no fucking right,” Santana seethed, not caring how blotchy and puffy her eyes looked. “You have no right to stick your fucking enormous beak where it doesn’t belong. Please, just fuck off.”

Rachel opened her mouth, but Santana didn’t want to hear any of it.

“FUCK OFF!” Santana screamed. “Leave me in peace for once in your sad fucking life!”

Santana must have looked really scary because Rachel flinched and ran away.

Santana curled back into a ball and cried a little more. She hadn’t cried like this for a while; she had been putting a front for too long.

Her life was a mess.

She was pretty sure she didn’t stop crying the whole walk to campus, but her eyes were so numb she couldn’t tell for sure.

* * *

It was a struggle keeping her eyes open while her professor with a strange infatuation with vests kept on droning in the background. She knew that she should be paying attention, because she didn’t want to fail her course and lose her scholarship because she needed it, but she couldn’t help her head from drooping every ten seconds. She needed sleep. It was Friday which meant that she had been working night shifts the whole week, and was looking, no, _craving_ for the sleep in that she would get tomorrow morning when she didn’t have a morning lecture to worry about. She hoped that Rachel wouldn’t be insensitive enough to wake her up in her sleep.

She was back to sitting in the corner of the lecture hall – she needed time to herself. If there was too much chatter around her, her head would feel like it would explode. She got enough of it at her diner and the bar. Holly had been nice enough to let her slack off a few nights, but since it was still her job and she needed the money she was still forced to turn up to work.

She was also back to her old ways – sitting alone in the corner of the canteen. While her brief friendship with Sam and Mercedes was good while it lasted, she felt that she could no longer keep up with them so she just stopped sitting at their table altogether. They always wanted her to meet up over the weekends, or Sam would want her to watch him in soccer practice or tell her to spy on Quinn in one of her tennis fixtures, but Santana had refused every single one of their invitations. Because weekends were no longer a time for fun and relaxation. It was the time of the week where Santana could repay her sleep debt and recharge for another hard week.

Even Quinn seemed to give up on her. For the first two weeks she would come by to visit Santana at the corner of the canteen, but she probably took the hint that Santana didn’t want to talk, if her barely intelligible, laconic responses were any indication. Eventually, Quinn left her alone and ate with Sam and Mercedes.

It was probably for the best. Quinn deserved someone much better than her, someone without this much baggage. Not that she and Quinn were anything in the first place.

It hurt, watching herself fall into the chasm of depression again, broken and alone. Recently she had stopped going to the canteen altogether, because she had lost all her appetite and felt sick.

Her train of thought was interrupted with a shake of her shoulder.

“Wakey wakey!” the high-pitched voice sang. “It’s time to go, the lecture’s over.”

That made Santana jolt and sit up straight. Her neck hurt slightly, probably because she had been slumping over the table the whole time. She didn’t even know she fell asleep.

“Shit,” she mumbled. “How much did I miss?”

“Not much, Schuester goes pretty slowly,” Kurt shrugged. “Are you okay? I’ve been watching you this week, you look really ill and feverish. Sad too. Is there something going on?”

“Just didn’t get much sleep, I guess,” Santana sighed. “Um, can you lend me your notes later? I need to take them because I missed it all.”

“I’ll save you the trouble and send them to you instead,” Kurt replied. “Look, do you want to take a week off? You look like you need it. I’ll keep you covered, I’ll take notes for both of us.”

Santana thought for a moment. “Alright,” she conceded. “Will that be fine?”

“Of course,” Kurt nodded. “Go home and drink some lemonade with honey, you’ll feel better instantly. And if you need anybody to talk to, I’m here, okay?”

“Thanks,” Santana blinked hard to keep her eyes open. “I’ll be fine, thanks for your consideration.”

Kurt gave a tight-lipped smile before he nodded again and grabbed his bag, heading for the exit.

Santana groaned and closed her notebook, shoving it carelessly into her bag and headed for the exit too. She took a right turn and was about to head out of the block when she heard someone call her name.

“Santana, wait!”

Santana turned around tiredly and fixed her unfocused gaze towards the source of the noise. Blonde hair.

“A-Are you okay?” Quinn shuffled over and put a warm hand on Santana’s shoulder. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks,” Santana said dryly.

“N-Not like that! I mean, less pretty than usual…” Quinn’s face pinked slightly, before she shook her head and gathered herself. “I barely see you around anymore, did I do something wrong?”

“You?” Santana chuckled. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then what is it?” Quinn pressed. “You don’t sit with us anymore, I don’t even see you in the canteen! Are you avoiding me?”

“No,” Santana responded.

“You don’t even seem to want to talk to me anymore,” Quinn pouted. “And it makes me kind of sad. I thought we were meant to be besties?”

“I’ll make more of an effort.”

Quinn sighed and edged closer. “Come hang out with us tonight? I really miss you. Sam and Mercedes are an open couple now, and I feel like the odd one out. Please come with me to the diner we’re eating at tonight? It will be a little like a double date…”

Quinn’s jaw slackened as she seemed to realise what had come out of her mouth.

“Uh, I didn’t mean that!” Quinn blubbered, cheeks pinking again. “What I meant was that you could keep me company while they… do their thing! Maybe double date wasn’t the right way to say it, unless you’re fine with me putting it that way, but uh… it feels –”

Normally Santana would find Quinn’s rambling and her flushed cheeks to be adorable, but with everything that happened today – the pain of the reminder of her first love, the fatigue of work, the notes she would have to catch up on – she couldn’t even crack a smile.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to pass on this one,” Santana interrupted. “I’m sorry, Quinn.”

“B-But… why?” Quinn’s expression fell. “Do you not want to hang out with us anymore? It will be fun, I promise! We can chat, eat some good food, have a good time… spend time alone with me…” she finished a little bashfully, rolling on the balls of her feet.

Santana really wanted to. But she had no energy, she doubted she could afford to pay for her meal at the diner anyway, plus she had a shift tonight.

“I really can’t,” Santana shrugged with a small smile. “Maybe next time.”

Quinn ducked her head and sighed. “Well, will you at least have lunch with me? Or do you have another reason why you can’t?” The latter half was said with a little more irritation.

“Sorry,” Santana smiled apologetically. “I have to catch up on my lecture notes.”

“God, you always have an excuse!” Quinn huffed, frustrated. “You never accept my invitations, you don’t tell me anything, you leave me wondering what I did wrong! You always shut me out when I worry, when I care. I feel like I’m the only one who’s trying in this relationship!”

Relationship?

“Um, I’m sorry, what relationship?” Santana shot back.

Quinn gaped open-mouthed at Santana, blanching. “I-I… I just care – you know what? Forget it,” she scowled. “I just wanted you to let loose and have some fun. But since you’re so insistent on being alone all the time, I won’t stop you. I’ll stop trying, because that’s what you want. I’ll stop, seriously.”

Quinn glared at Santana expectantly, as if daring her to talk, daring Santana to argue against her.

Santana wanted to tell Quinn to never stop trying. She wanted to tell Quinn everything, the reason why she couldn’t turn up to their gatherings. She wanted to tell Quinn that she was miserable, that she was working two jobs and felt like she was going to die. But none of it came out of her mouth. She didn’t want another person, especially one she cared a lot about, knowing that she was an absolute mess and her life was complete and utter shit.

When a few moments passed in silence, Quinn scoffed and turned her back, walking out of the architecture department. Santana wanted nothing more than to stop her, but she couldn’t move.

Quinn no longer wanted anything to do with her. She left, for good this time.

Santana blinked away the tears that were threatening to fall. Maybe it was for the best.

* * *

“Santana!” the squeaky voice shouted through all the clatter and ruckus. “Santana, where the hell are you?”

“For fuck’s sake, Sugar, I was serving Table 23,” Santana groaned as she came over, drying her sweat on her apron. “If you scream at me every time I’m away, I’m going to drop a plate.”

“Sorry,” Sugar adjusted the bow that was on her light brown hair. “Table 14 calls for you.”

“Seriously?” Santana rolled her eyes as she walked into the kitchen and grabbed another tray of hot food. “Can’t you serve them? I have to hand this to Table 25.”

“I can’t,” Sugar shrugged. “I have to serve Table 41.”

“Table 41 doesn’t even exist, Motta,” Santana growled.

“Hey, think of this as a favour!” Sugar whined. “I covered your shift, now you’re covering mine!”

“That was over a month ago,” Santana snarled. “You use that against me every time. _You_ go serve Table 14.”

“Just this one last time!” Sugar pleaded, clasping her hands together dramatically. “I need to go to the bathroom, I won’t do this again!”

“Fine. Last time,” Santana warned, jabbing a finger at Sugar’s chest before she rolled her eyes and walked out of the kitchen, towards Table 25. When she finally handed the plates over with a fake smile to the ungrateful bitches at the table who were sipping on white wine, Santana wiped her hands on her uniform again and made her way towards Table 14, which was on the other side of the room.

Santana brushed a few sticky tendrils of stray hair away from her face as she grabbed her small notebook and pen, not looking up when she got to Table 14.

“Hello, are you ready for your orders?” she said robotically.

“Santana?” It was a voice she knew, but had not heard for a while.

Santana jerked and looked up at the people sitting at the table, feeling a weird rush of adrenaline through her head when she saw the familiar trio before her.

“What are you doing here?” Sam continued, frowning.

“U-Uh…” Santana trailed, gripping onto her pen and notebook tighter.

“San…” Quinn, who looked worried and confused, spoke this time. “W-What’s this? I-Is this why you…?” she trailed.

Santana gulped.

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long AN, but this might be worth reading:
> 
> Character recall time! I am going to put a little too much depth into this story so I'm just going to give each mentioned character's situation and backstory here (for your and my sake):
> 
> Santana, Brittany, Tina and Mike went to a state school in Washington. Santana was going to go to Stanford, but she turned it down. Mike and Brittany intern in a dance studio in California. Tina works in an advertisement internship in Seattle. Tina and Mike were a couple, but it is unknown whether they are still dating long-distance.
> 
> Mercedes and Rachel were rivals in high school as they were leaders of their school show choirs in their home state. They went to different schools but know each other. Rachel and Santana have a pretty strained relationship as roommates.
> 
> Quinn and Sam went to McKinley in Lima, Ohio. Quinn has an older sister, Frannie; Sam has two younger siblings, Stevie and Stacy. They have never dated but as Sam said, he was/is Quinn's "only true friend". When Mercedes got assigned to be her roommate, she became another one of Quinn's best friends. Mercedes and Sam are a couple (a reason why Quinn feels left out).
> 
> Kurt is in Santana's architecture class; Sugar is Santana's coworker at the diner; Holly Holliday is Santana's boss at the pub. I'll be very impressed if you can guess who the "cleanly shaved boy" was when Santana first set foot in the pub.
> 
> As you have probably guessed, not everything has been sunshine and rainbows for Quinn. Her storyline will be explored when Santana's predicament gets resolved. Also open to taking guesses at Quinn's storyline. I won't spoil the story by telling you if you were right, though. However, you'll be a genius in my eyes for being so perceptive.
> 
> That's it... for now! I hope you enjoyed it, and please leave a review! If you're shy, then a kudo and/or subscription shows the same support! I am a pretty mathsy person so I love watching the numbers rise! And most importantly, take care and stay safe!


	6. Part I: Chapter 6

Santana had felt a lot of things in her life before, but this was completely foreign. It was like being caught red-handed. She felt this weird, unfamiliar heat that was running through her head, making her dizzy and confused.

So this was the feeling she would’ve gotten if she had been caught in the act with Brittany.

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. The other three were staring at her, what could she do?

She wished she had the power to turn invisible and get the hell out of there. She wouldn’t mind the floor opening up and swallowing her whole either.

She didn’t know how much time passed, her in that stupid stupor, fingers clenching tightly around her pen, mouth slack and gaping at the trio before her. But thankfully, she managed to find her voice before it was too late and spoke:

“What would you like to order?”

“Santana, do you work here?” This time it was Mercedes who spoke, and Santana had to bite back the temptation to snap and lash out right here and now, unleashing her pent-up frustration at the stupid question, this world and this awful situation.

Of course she worked here. Why the fuck else would she be asking for their orders, wearing some stupid ass red uniform?

“Do you need more time?” Santana said instead, avoiding any form of eye contact. “That’s no problem at all,” she continued without waiting for an answer. “Enjoy your drinks, and one of my colleagues will serve you when you’re ready.”

With that, she turned on her heels to get as far away from the trio as possible. However, she couldn’t get more than five meters away when someone suddenly grabbed her shoulder.

“Wait, don’t go, San…” Santana whirled around to see who grabbed her, feeling even more distressed when she saw it was Quinn who had gotten out of her seat and chased the brunette.

Quinn’s eyebrows were slightly furrowed, and her beautiful hazel eyes held so much worry and trepidation that Santana couldn’t bring it upon herself to wrench herself from Quinn’s grip and get away.

“I-I didn’t know you worked here,” she whispered, biting her lower lip. “Why didn’t you –”

“Quinn,” Santana hissed back. “Now’s not the time, okay? Read through the menu, decide what you want, and when you’re ready a member of staff will come to serve you. I hope you enjoy your meal.”

Santana turned back around and walked away, ignoring the calls of her name. She needed to get out of there.

She was feeling a plethora of emotions; she was feeling so many that she had no idea whether she was angry or sad or resentful… she was confused, she was screwed…

Santana shook her head and shoved the notebook into her pocket as she strode into the kitchen, just as the staff bathroom door opened and Sugar walked out, humming innocently.

Santana suddenly felt a surge of anger and changed her course of direction, marching towards the short girl who was now twiddling with the bow on her head, adjusting her pigtails.

“You,” Santana growled, closing the distance fast. Sugar whipped around in alarm, and Santana could swear that she recoiled when she saw Santana gaining upon her. “Did you set this up?”

“I-I don’t understand,” Sugar stuttered, intimidated by Santana’s death glare. “Set what up?”

“All that bullshit to force me to go to Table 14? How did you know I know them? Huh? Were you trying to embarrass me or some shit? Now I’m never going to hear the end of it, all they’re going to think of me is some fucking low-tier Latina who works a dingy job!”

“I-I’m sorry if the people at Table 14 weren’t nice to you,” Sugar said slowly, treading ice under Santana’s ire. “I really needed to go to the bathroom, that’s all, I promise.” Santana could swear Sugar was trembling.

Santana’s anger dissipated when she saw the effect she was having on the shorter brunette, who looked beyond frightened. She shouldn’t take her frustration out on the co-worker that has been the closest person to being a friend in this shitty place.

“Look, Sugar,” Santana sighed. “Those people at Table 14? They were the people who I was telling you about a few weeks ago. You know, when you asked me where I went? They used to be my friends at Yale, and now they know I work here. They won’t think of me the same way again.”

“Santana, that doesn’t really make any sense,” Sugar drawled. “I mean,” she said quickly when Santana sent her a withering glare. “Lots of people work night jobs when they go to college. It’s not going to make them think of you any differently.”

“As far as I’m concerned, none of them work night jobs,” Santana wrinkled her nose. “And I’m certain they don’t work _two_ night jobs. This?” she gestured at her uniform with both hands. “Is something I want to hide from them, Sugar. Especially from Quinn. And now she knows.”

“Maybe it’s not a bad thing,” Sugar said tentatively. “You were telling me about how you wished you didn’t have to work at all a few days back, weren’t you? And now your friends know, they can help you. If they’re your true friends, they won’t judge you or anything.”

“I hope not,” Santana ducked her head. “Maybe you’re right. I hope you are anyway. I’m just really embarrassed, you know? Working as a waitress… isn’t exactly at the top of everyone’s bucket list.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Sugar shrugged. “Trust me. Well, I’m not ashamed of working here at least. We get money by working hard, at least we don’t beg on the streets or something like that.”

Santana exhaled deeply. “I guess,” she conceded. “Sorry, Sugar, for blowing up on you like that. I’ve just been really tired and irritated lately, guess everything is catching up to me now.”

“It’s okay, I had it coming,” Sugar smiled in relief. “That’s what I get for being lazy, eh?”

“So… um, I don’t really want to serve that table anymore, do you mind serving them when they order? I’ll deal with the tables with numbers above 20.”

“Sure,” Sugar nodded.

“Thanks, Sugar.”

“No worries,” Sugar grinned. “Plus, I’m kind of curious what this ‘Quinn’ person you’ve been telling me about is like. I wanna see if she lives up to all your praise.”

Santana chuckled. “If she asks for me though, tell her I’m busy. I don’t feel like a confrontation, not now at least. Is that okay?”

“Of course,” Sugar nodded. “But since I’m covering a part of your shift,” she smirked. “You can hand _that_ over to Table 27,” she said, gesturing to a tray on the counter.

Santana rolled her eyes good-naturedly and picked up the tray, leaving without a complaint.

She made sure to stay clear of Quinn’s side of the diner for the rest of her shift.

* * *

Santana bade farewell to Sugar as her shift ended at nearly nine in the evening. Putting a scarf around her neck, she left the diner and walked down the dark pavement.

Her heightened emotions have long cooled down and now all she was feeling was dread. Quinn, Sam and Mercedes knew, what were they going to think of her? Plus, she was knackered and wanted nothing more than to go home and collapse in her bed, but she had to get ready for another three-and-a-half-hour shift in Holliday’s pub. It would be a miracle if she didn’t faint in the middle of her shift.

She was taking a right turn off the street the diner was on when she could swear she heard her name being called.

Santana stood still for a few seconds, craning her ears to hear for it again, but when she heard nothing she shook her head and kept walking. She was so tired that she was hallucinating. Great.

Santana hugged her coat closer to her when this time, she heard steps that were getting louder and louder with each passing second. And this time she was pretty sure she was not hallucinating.

She whipped around, bracing herself for a potential mugger or attacker but didn’t see anyone with a knife or a mask. Just the familiar mop of short blonde hair that bobbed as she ran.

“Quinn!” Santana reprimanded incredulously as the blonde caught up with her, panting. “What the hell are you doing out here so late? It’s not safe to be alone.”

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Quinn wheezed as she caught her breath. “San, why didn’t you ever come anywhere close to where I was sitting? I asked that pigtail lady for you so many times but she always said you were busy. But you weren’t! You were just wandering around the other side of the restaurant!”

Santana bit her lip, deciding not to answer her question. “Quinn, that doesn’t explain why you’re walking around in the dark so late at night. How long have you been out here?”

“A while,” Quinn confessed, stepping into the moonlight which illuminated half of her beautiful face. “I was going to wait for you at the diner,” she continued. “We’ve finished our meal, but then someone came and kicked us out. I told Sam and Mercedes to go home, and I’ve been walking around, waiting for your shift to end.”

“Quinn…” Santana didn’t know what Quinn did was sweet or stupid.

“San,” Quinn breathed back, stepping in even closer, grabbing one of Santana’s hands. “Is this why you couldn’t hang out with me tonight? Because you had to work?”

“I-I…” Santana gaped at the blonde, then ducked her head, watching Quinn’s warm, pale hands over one of hers. “You weren’t meant to find out.”

“Why?” Quinn frowned. “You could’ve told me, we’re meant to be best friends, no?”

“I just don’t want you to think of me any differently,” Santana confessed. “You don’t have to work jobs that pay minimum wage to keep yourself alive, to put food on the table. And I do. It’s not something to be proud of.”

“It’s not something to be ashamed of either,” Quinn reassured, gently tracing a thumb over the back of Santana’s hand, which was incredibly distracting. “If anything, I’m impressed. You have so much on your plate, and you’re handling it so well.”

“Not really,” Santana mumbled. “I’m going to fail everything.”

“I don’t think so, you’re too smart for that,” Quinn shook her head. “So…” she said slowly, a small, shy smile creeping up her lips. “Now that work is over for you, do you want to come over to mine? Mercedes is staying with Sam tonight, we will have the whole place to ourselves. We can, you know, watch a movie together, share some popcorn? How does that sound?”

“That sounds awesome,” Santana started, and Quinn beamed brightly. “But I can’t.”

Quinn’s expression fell and Santana felt a sense of déjà vu. “Why not?” she pouted. “Do you not want to come over? I won’t be offended, you can just say that if you don’t.”

Santana sighed and ducked her head. She considered lying, but she had hidden too much already. With how persistent Quinn was being, the least she deserved was the truth. Santana was scared of revealing everything, but Quinn deserved to know. She didn’t want to keep Quinn in the dark anymore.

“I do want to,” Santana said honestly. “But I can’t because I have another shift in thirty minutes.”

“Y-You have to work again?” Quinn stuttered. “At nine? But the diner is closing soon! I-I don’t understand.”

“No,” Santana pursed her lips. “I have another job, it’s at Holliday’s. It’s a pub, my shift ends there at one.”

“O-One?” Quinn gasped, scandalised. “You have _two_ jobs?”

“Yeah,” Santana nodded. “And I should probably go and get changed, I don’t want to be late.” With a heavy sigh, Santana turned to leave.

“No!” Quinn gripped Santana’s shoulder harshly, turning her right back around. “San, you can’t be serious! How long have you been working two jobs? And… why? Why do you put yourself through this?”

“I’ve been working these two jobs since the third week of college,” Santana answered monotonously. “And I don’t do it for fun, Quinn. No. I do it because I’m broke.”

“Broke?” Quinn frowned. “But… you go to Yale, your parents have got to help –”

“Quinn, I don’t have parents anymore.”

The next few seconds were eerily silent.

“Huh?”

“Quinn, I have, um, a lot of personal problems, okay?” Santana muttered. “You don’t understand.”

“Then make me understand!” Quinn pleaded. “Santana, please don’t shut me out again. I want to help you, I really do. I care about you, Santana. When I see you sad, I’m sad too. When I see you hurt, I hurt. Please, Santana, just… let me help, please? I can keep this a secret between us if you want, I promise. You know you can trust me, right?”

“What is it about me?” Santana asked tiredly, looking at Quinn directly in the eyes. “Why do you care so much?”

“B-Because I… I li–” Quinn gulped and averted her gaze. She looked conflicted for a while, before she blinked and said, “I hate to see people sad, okay? I want to make you happy, do you know how much it hurts to see you miserable? I don’t wish that upon anyone,” she sighed.

Santana stared into beautiful hazel eyes that weren’t quite meeting hers for a while. Quinn seemed like she wanted to say something else altogether…

“Alright,” Santana cast her eyes away. “I’ll tell you. B-But… please don’t interrupt me while I’m talking, okay? It’s as hard as it is, it’s going to be like peeling off fresh skin…”

“Of course,” Quinn whispered, nodding.

“So… um, first things first, I don’t think I ever told you where I was from. I come from the west coast, Washington state. I told you I was going to major in Medicine at Stanford but turned it down and came here instead, but I never told you why. Well, the reason was… I wanted to get as far away from home as possible.

“I had a friend who was attached to my side since we were seven… her name was Brittany. As time went along, I started to have these different feelings for her, feelings I was sure went beyond friendship. Long story short, I finally asked her out and we dated in secret for a few years, because my father was a homophobic bastard. However, senior year was drawing to an end and Brittany really wanted us to become an open couple, because she was sick of being my secret: she wanted to hold my hand in the hallways, to kiss me in public without all the paranoia. But I told her I couldn’t do it; my family were very devoted, religious Christians and would never accept a gay daughter.

“The last month of school rolled by, and Britany and I had a huge argument. She gave me an ultimatum. If I wanted her, I had to be with her, out and proud, not stealing kisses in the janitor’s closet. If I disagreed, I wouldn’t have her at all. I told her it wasn’t fair, but she said she didn’t care. She gave me a month. A month went by, and I couldn’t do it. When she found I still hadn’t done it, she left me and I never saw her again.

“I was too proud to believe that she had left me for real, so I held off, thinking that she would come back to me. But she didn’t. So in a desperate attempt to prove myself and get her back, I outed myself to my parents. I… really don’t want to go into details, but it went super ugly really fast, and they kicked me out. I was thrown into the streets with nothing but a bag of clothes. I tried to call Brittany for help, but she had changed her number. Thankfully, a friend of mine found me crying in the streets and let me stay at hers.

“It was at that moment that I decided to pursue my true interest – architecture. I had no more parents to please, I didn’t have to force myself to do medicine anymore. So I came here, to Yale. I didn’t have any money, however, so I found two night jobs to pay for rent and to put food on the table. I work from six in the evening to one in the morning, and I spend all my weekends sleeping and relearning the week’s material, which is why I can’t come to hang out with you guys, Quinn. And, um… if I am going to be honest, you’re right, I am miserable. On a good day, I sleep five hours, I am falling behind in my classes and I have bills to pay on top of everything. I’m exhausted, and I can’t take a break. Because if I do, I starve, everything goes to deeper shit. Easy as that. So, um, yeah, that’s my life story.”

Santana had to take deep breaths in the moment of silence that ensued to keep herself from crying. Revealing everything, making herself vulnerable and losing her dignity, made it feel as if she was reliving that pain all over again.

She wasn’t sure she succeeded, however, because she could hear sobbing.

It wasn’t until she lifted her head fearfully to see how Quinn would respond to her tale that she realised that it wasn’t her who was crying. It was Quinn.

“S-San…” Quinn wept, face contorting as she wiped her eyes to get rid of the tears that trailed down the curves of her cheeks. “God… I’m so sorry, I never knew…”

“It’s okay, I don’t need your pity. I have enough of that in my life already.”

“N-No!” Quinn said frantically. “No, I-I just feel so bad about the way I treated you… how could I have not figured something was wrong? You needed help this whole time, these p-past two months, and I was never here to help you. Instead, I got mad at you, because I’m so stupid and _goddamn_ inconsiderate…”

“You didn’t treat me wrong,” Santana reassured as Quinn fell onto Santana’s shoulder, soaking the fabric with tears. “If anything, you are the reason I kept going. When I feel like I’m going to die, I think about you, your enthusiasm, your happiness, and it gives me a little more energy. Enough to last me the final hours of the shift, enough to motivate me, to keep me going. So, I have you to thank, Quinn.”

“I had no idea…” Quinn whimpered into Santana’s shoulder. “I could’ve figured it out sooner so you wouldn’t have to go through so much pain…”

Seeing Quinn cry was a very unusual sight. The girl was normally so happy. It made Santana want to cry herself. Was this similar to how Quinn felt when she watched Santana sitting alone in the corner of the canteen, sad and broken?

“Quinn, please, no more tears, not for me anyway, I’m not worth it…”

“You are worth it!” Quinn shouted, face flushed as she lifted it and stared at Santana straight in the eyes. “You are the strongest person I know,” she whispered. “To be able to go through that for so long on top of all the pain and betrayal… I don’t know how anybody can do that. You’re _so_ strong, Santana.”

Santana pursed her lips and reached out to wipe away a tear from Quinn’s right cheek. How Quinn could still look so beautiful when she was crying was beyond the brunette.

“Please don’t go to work,” Quinn pleaded. “You’re exhausted, you need sleep. Is there a colleague at the bar you can get to cover your shift tonight?”

“Yeah,” Santana ducked her head. “But that means he gets the money, and I need it.”

“That’s not a problem, I’ll help you with that,” Quinn said instantly. “Please, call him? I really don’t want you to work until one tonight, please don’t go?”

Santana sighed. “Alright,” she said, grabbing her phone and dialling one of her contacts. “Hey, Noah?” she said when the boy picked up after three rings. “Do you mind covering me tonight? Something came up and I can’t come to work.”

“Damn, Lopez, seriously?” Noah groaned from the other side of the line. “I was going to binge this TV series… fine. I’ll go to work. Only because you covered my shift last week, okay? We’re even now.”

“Yep,” Santana said gratefully. “Thank you so much, Noah.”

“No problem, Lezpez.” He ended the call.

“So…?” Quinn inquired nervously as Santana put her phone in her pocket.

“He agreed,” Santana replied.

Quinn sighed in relief. “Great! That’s really good, you can get some rest… especially since we don’t have lectures tomorrow as it’s Saturday… so um, San?” Quinn asked, voice quiet towards the end.

“Yeah?”

“Please stay the night at mine?” Quinn whispered nervously. “I want to look after you. I won’t forgive myself if I let you go through anymore of this.”

Santana thought for a moment. “Okay,” she whispered back.

“Okay?” Quinn echoed.

“Okay.”

“Right, okay,” Quinn smiled and held one of Santana’s hands in hers. “I’ll drive you home. You can sleep in the car if you want, okay?”

Santana merely nodded.

* * *

“Here,” Quinn mumbled timidly as she dug out a set of pyjamas from her drawer when they arrived in her apartment. Even though Santana was extremely tired and couldn’t pay much attention to what was around her, it was still noticeable how Quinn’s room was incredibly tidy and clean. She also chose a nice location for her apartment – it was on a high floor so there was a nice view and it was only ten minutes’ walk away from campus.

Santana looked at the light blue articles of clothing on the bed. “Um, you want me to wear these?”

“Yeah, if that’s fine with you,” Quinn replied, cheeks pinking. “Um, I just thought that it would be more comfortable if you wore these instead of your work clothes to bed, that’s all. It’s not that I’m worried you will get my bed dirty or anything.”

“Oh,” Santana breathed. “Did you say your bed? Shouldn’t you sleep in your bed? And I’ll sleep in Mercedes’?”

“You can sleep in mine,” Quinn reassured. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t know if Mercedes will mind you sleeping in her bed but I know she won’t mind me sleeping in hers, so…”

“Okay…” Santana drawled. “So, um,” she looked at Quinn’s set of pyjamas. “Do you mind if I change and put these on?”

“Yeah, of course, go right ahead,” Quinn nodded. “I got them out for you.”

“Uh…”

“Oh right, you want me to leave,” Quinn’s lips formed an ‘o’ shape in understanding, cheeks turning scarlet in embarrassment. “Sorry, I’ll go… Sweet dreams, Santana. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She sent a shy smile before nimbly darting out the room, closing the door softly behind her.

Santana slowly put Quinn’s set of pyjamas on and was surprised at how snugly it fit. But to be fair, she and Quinn had similar builds and heights, so it made sense.

It even had Quinn’s scent on it. And now she was going to sleep in Quinn’s bed. She was going to be smothered by Quinn’s glorious smell the whole night. Santana didn’t know whether to feel giddy, or to feel guilty for feeling giddy. She was such a creep.

She let her muscles relax as she slowly slipped into Quinn’s bed. Her mattress was really soft and her covers were really comfortable… Santana felt her eyes drooping within seconds and she was already half-asleep.

She loved Quinn’s scent. It was a faint lavender smell, with traces of vanilla on the pillow, presumably her shampoo.

It was so comfortable.

Santana felt her breathing slow and every muscle slacking when she suddenly felt a presence sticking onto her back and an arm draping across her waist.

“Hm?” Santana hummed sleepily as she shifted slightly, fitting herself more comfortably against the person behind her.

“Sorry, is this okay?” Quinn whispered from behind her, breathing pleasant hot air into the back of Santana’s head. “I’ll leave you to your peace if you want.”

“Yeah,” Santana whispered, voice barely intelligible. “Thank you, Quinn.”

“It’s the least I can do.” The voice was getting further and further away as Santana fell deeper and deeper into the realm of unconsciousness.

She vaguely felt Quinn’s face against her hair, and the soft sensation of Quinn’s lips on the nape of her neck.

“Hmm,” Santana hummed. “I smell…”

“You don’t,” Quinn reassured, placing another feather-light kiss on the back of Santana’s neck. “Sweet dreams, Santana.”

Santana didn’t have the energy to respond anymore. There, she let herself go. And there, nestled safely in Quinn’s arms, she had the best night’s sleep in months.


	7. Part I: Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will reveal a little bit of Quinn's storyline, but mainly it is for foreshadowing purposes.  
> Still open to taking guesses at Quinn's storyline! I will be so impressed if you get it right.

Santana let out a deep exhale through her nose as she snuggled closer to her comfortable pillow, letting out another content sigh. She was waking up from her peaceful slumber and she didn’t want to—it was so comfortable and warm in here, and she didn’t think that she had such a good sleep in months. It was dreamless yet relaxing—her spent muscles had completely recharged, and she felt as if she could take on the next week already. Maybe her not working at the bar the night before had something to do with it. She was able to get at least 8 hours of sleep today! What a miracle.

Tiredly, Santana snuggled further into the warm pillow, letting out a soft whimper when her lips tasted something that didn’t feel like polyester. It was warm, it almost felt like… skin.

Blinking in confusion, Santana opened her turbid mocha eyes and saw that the thing in front of her was indeed not a pillow. Even more confused now, Santana panned her vision upwards and saw a curtain of blonde hair, then the beautiful face Santana had been seeing in her head for months.

Why on earth was Quinn in her bed? Santana racked her head for a while… until everything that transpired the previous night came back to her.

Was she snuggled into Quinn’s chest the whole time?

Oh god.

Feeling mortified and embarrassed, Santana jolted and made some distance between the two of them—surely she was intruding in Quinn’s personal space. She remembered how she had passed out like a log on Quinn’s bed… why Quinn was in the bed with her she couldn’t quite remember, but she was sure she was overstepping some boundaries by snuggling up to Quinn the whole night.

“Hey, hey,” Quinn whispered when Santana jerked backwards, leaning forwards to cradle Santana’s face in one of her warm hands. “It’s okay, it’s just me…”

Santana’s eyes cleared, and Quinn’s face became clearer. How someone could look this beautiful in the morning with messy bed hair was beyond the brunette.

Was it weird that Santana thought Quinn looked even more beautiful without makeup? She looked so radiant, so vibrant, so… natural.

“S-Sorry,” Santana muttered. “What I did was completely inappropriate…”

“No,” Quinn reassured, sending a warm smile that sent tingles down Santana’s spine. “It’s okay. I liked it. Come here,” she requested, pulling Santana towards her chest again. Santana complied, burying her head in the nook of Quinn’s neck. She smelled so nice.

“What time is it?” Santana grumbled out, voice muffled against Quinn’s skin.

“It’s only seven-thirty in the morning,” Quinn replied. “Go back to sleep, honey.”

Santana didn’t realise how tired she still was until Quinn’s lilting tone lulled her back to sleep.

“B-But…” Santana feebly complained. “I fell asleep yesterday in my lecture, I need to catch up…”

“Yes, you fell asleep,” Quinn echoed, placing a tender kiss on the top of Santana’s head. “All the more reason to go back to sleep. It’s okay, you can sleep a little longer…”

Quinn said a little more, but Santana couldn’t register it because she was already falling asleep again.

“Alright,” Santana slurred, snuggling closer to Quinn’s neck and closing her eyes. “Y-You’re so pretty, Quinn… you shouldn’t wear makeup to campus, you look so much better…”

She vaguely felt Quinn’s body temperature rise. She said something in response, but Santana didn’t hear it, because she was already back to dreamless sleep.

* * *

When Santana woke up again, she was (regretfully) not snuggling into Quinn anymore. She was curled up beneath the duvet in Quinn’s single bed, alone.

“Ugh,” Santana blinked the sleep away from her eyes. She had this weird dull headache pounding in her head that only came when you slept too long. It felt so unfamiliar because she had not had this in a very long time—the last time she remembered sleeping for so long that her head hurt was probably back in last spring, over half a year ago.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes to get rid of the grogginess that clung onto them, and when her murky vision finally cleared, she was able to take in her surroundings. It didn’t take long for her to see that Quinn was only at the opposite side of the room at her desk, presumably studying or reading or something like that.

Quinn seemed to have sensed that Santana was awake, for she turned her head and gave Santana a bright smile when she saw the brunette was sitting up on the bed.

“Afternoon, Santana,” Quinn smiled, wading her way over to the bed and perching herself on the bedsheets. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah,” Santana nodded, finding enough energy to match Quinn’s scintillating smile. “I don’t think I have slept better for at least six months,” she continued, which elicited Quinn’s beam to widen even more. Then the first part of Quinn’s greeting registered. “Wait,” Santana trailed. “Did you say _afternoon_?”

“Mm-hmm,” Quinn nodded.

“W-What time is it?” Santana asked fearfully.

Quinn looked at her wrist. “Just after one in the afternoon. Why?”

She slept for _15_ hours?

“Shit,” Santana cursed, jumping straight out of bed and looking for her gown, but then she remembered she was in Quinn’s bedroom, wearing Quinn’s pyjamas. “I’ve lost so much time, I need to get Kurt to send me the notes from yesterday, I need to learn the stuff, I need to get ready for work–”

“Hey,” Quinn calmed Santana down with a single fleeting touch on her shoulder. “Don’t panic, it’s okay–”

“How is it _okay_?” Santana screeched hysterically. “I should’ve gotten up at seven-thirty, don’t you see I’ve wasted nearly six hours of my weekend? You might take time for granted, but for me, wasted time is not a luxury I can afford. I am a tight rope about to snap, and you _don’t_ want to see what happens when it snaps. I can’t believe it, I’m so screwed–”

“Just shut up!” Quinn shouted. Santana froze, shocked at Quinn’s sudden outburst. Quinn took a few heaving deep breaths before she spoke again. “Can’t you see what you’re doing to yourself?” she said considerably more calmly, voice barely above a whisper. To her surprise, Quinn’s beautiful hazel-green eyes were glazed, holding in unshed tears. “You’re killing yourself, Santana. Can’t you see that you sleeping all of this time was a good thing? You feel a lot better than you did yesterday, don’t you?” Santana nodded. “Isn’t it better to do things when you are fully conscious than to half-ass your work when you’re half asleep? As my mother had told me wisely one time, you have to sharpen the saw. You just recharged yourself; the last six hours were _not_ a waste. You’re not even fully recovered yet, you can’t possibly after _two_ months of _torture_ ,” a tear trailed out of her eye. “Please, let yourself take a day off? And please, let me take care of you today?”

Santana pursed her lips and nodded. “Okay,” she whispered. “I-I’m sorry, Quinn.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Quinn whispered, leaning forward to wrap her arms around the brunette in an embrace. “You didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, _I’m_ sorry, Santana, for not helping you earlier.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for either,” Santana mumbled. “You’re not responsible for my burdens.”

“I am now,” Quinn said, letting go and holding Santana at arm’s length. “I’m going to make you some food, okay? You must be hungry.”

“Okay,” Santana nodded, feeling a surge of affection and gratitude for the blonde before her. She was genuinely so perfect. “T-Thank you so much, Quinn.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Quinn rubbed Santana’s arm affectionately. “Stay here, okay? I’ll bring you your food soon.”

Santana smiled and nodded. Quinn matched her smile before darting out of the room and closing the door gently behind her.

Santana exhaled through her nose and turned her back, walking her way over to the other side of the room where Quinn’s table was. As expected, just like her room, everything was set out meticulously on her table: a cup with pens on the top right corner, a stack of paper on a shelf next to it, a few textbooks stacked close to it too. There were a few sheets of paper on her desk, and when Santana looked at them more closely, she realised it was some lawyer stuff from Yale. She flipped through the sheets and skimmed the text—the pieces of paper were colourful with all the highlighting Quinn did, and there were also lots of notes taken in the margins in Quinn’s neat handwriting.

Quinn was such a diligent student. And that was one of the million things that made her so perfect. Way too perfect for Santana, unfortunately, but still perfect.

Santana trailed her vision towards the shelves when she was finished with the few sheets of text Quinn had been analysing on the desk, towards the textbooks she had. It was all common lawyer stuff Santana couldn’t understand, so she didn’t even bother touching them. She was about to move on from the shelf before something caught her eye.

It was a book between two boring-looking law textbooks, and Santana was sure that the book she had her eyes set on was _not_ a textbook.

Curiously, Santana reached out and took the book out of the shelf, eyes widening when she read what was on the front page.

It was one word, spelt with cut-out letters from newspapers like a collage: _CHARLIE_.

Who was Charlie?

Santana felt it was okay to see what was inside because if it wasn’t Quinn’s, she couldn’t be invading anyone's privacy, right? Plus, she had not heard of a _Charlie_ before, which made her even more curious.

Santana’s eyes widened even more when she flipped the cover and saw what was on the first page.

It was of Quinn, clad in a cheerleading outfit, smiling brightly at the camera with a stern and mean-looking blonde who looked a lot like Quinn standing next to her, in the same cheerleading outfit. So that’s what her sister looked like.

Santana looked at the picture more closely… so that’s what a young Quinn looked like. She could not have been over 13—there were a few spots on her face, but she was still gorgeous… Santana would definitely have crushed on this girl heavily if they went to the same school.

Santana flipped the page onto the first double spread, and it was titled, in newspaper collage again, _EVANS_. And inside was a man and a woman Santana didn’t recognise, obviously at a wedding. She could see a teenager Sam in some photographs too, wearing a formal suit. Quinn wasn’t in any of them.

Wait… didn’t Sam say Quinn was the photographer for his parents’ wedding? So Quinn took these pictures? They were so good; if someone told Santana a professional took this Santana would’ve believed them.

Wait… if these were Quinn’s pictures, was this… Quinn’s photo album? But then who was Charlie?

Santana knew she should stop, but her curiosity got the better of her and she flipped the page again. The next few double spreads had no faces in them, just pictures of gorgeous scenery. Some were of flowers, fields, the setting sun. Santana found herself to be ensorcelled by these pictures—they were so pretty.

If Quinn had so much talent, why did she drop photography or filmography and went for law in the end? It made no sense.

Faces were back in the next couple of double spreads and Santana could see a few pictures of Quinn and Sam, smiling at the camera. Quinn was still in the same cheerleader outfit, but she was noticeably older, perhaps 15. Sam’s lips got bigger too.

Then Santana flipped a few pages and stopped at a random page. And what was there made her heart stop.

There was only one picture, in the middle of the double spread, with a huge, seemingly intentional rip down the middle. It was of Quinn at around 17 if Santana had to guess, giddily hugging a boy who had an oddly familiar smirk and a mohawk.

Santana looked more closely at the boy that she seemed to know, but didn’t at the same time. Santana felt she had met this boy, but surely she would remember someone with as distinctive of a haircut as a mohawk? But that smirk… it was so familiar…

Looking closely at the things around Quinn and that uncanny boy, she could see some decoration at the outskirts of the picture, namely hearts. This was most likely taken in a Valentine’s photo booth.

So this was one of Quinn’s ex-boyfriends, Santana presumed. She wondered how many more there were to come.

Santana flipped past the page and rapidly flickered to the remaining pictures, finding no more boys with Quinn other than Sam. Then she flipped to the last picture before the empty pages of the rest of the photo album, and found a picture of herself.

Huh?

Santana looked closer at it… it was of her in the canteen, taken from a distance, picking at some food in her tray. Was she how she looked on campus? She looked so broken, despondent, alone… no wonder everybody said she was sad. Was this how she looked now?

Did Quinn take this? The angle definitely seemed like it could’ve been from her usual table in the canteen at Yale.

Next to the photo was a hand-drawn picture of a red heart with an arrow through it. Santana frowned: what was that supposed to mean?

However, before she could dwell on it, the door opened.

“San, I’ve got your food! I’ve made a nice bacon sandwi… San?”

Santana whipped around like a deer caught in headlights, slamming the photo album shut. Quinn stood there, frozen, gaping at the brunette, a plate with a sandwich perched in her hand.

Shit. Santana overstepped the line by like a mile this time… Quinn will never want anything to do with her again.

“Y-You…” Quinn hurried over and set down the plate on her desk. She then snatched the photo album out of Santana’s hands. “H-How could you?” she cried, hugging the book close to her chest. “That’s _private_!”

“I-I didn’t know!” Santana tried feebly to defend herself. “I saw this between your textbooks and it was labelled Charlie and curiosity got the best of me, I’m so sorry.”

Quinn didn’t speak, just stared at Santana angrily, frowning.

“I didn’t know who Charlie was, and I thought it was okay–”

“That’s me!” Quinn exclaimed. “ _I’m_ Charlie!”

Santana gaped at Quinn. “W-Wait… so your name isn’t Quinn? It’s Charlie?”

“No,” Quinn shook her head and wiped her eyes. “Charlie isn’t my name. It’s an alias I came up with for my photography. I didn’t want to use my real name, it’s just a name that I liked and it sounded more professional, so… um…”

“Please forgive me,” Santana whispered. “I didn’t see much, I promise.”

Quinn pursed her lips. “How much did you see?” she asked.

“Just the pictures of Sam’s wedding,” Santana replied. “And your pictures of nature, before you came back.” Santana didn’t want to say anything about the mysterious ripped picture of Quinn and the boy with the mohawk, neither did she want to say she found a picture of herself. These were obviously personal, and Santana felt she would not be doing herself a favour by admitting to these things.

“You’re a very talented photographer,” Santana continued, trying to make Quinn a little less angry at her. She really screwed up this time. “Really, I’m not joking. You are a professional. And please, forgive me, I shouldn’t have looked and stuck my nose where it didn’t belong…”

“It’s okay,” Quinn sighed, putting the book back on the shelf. “Let’s forget it, put this behind us, it’s nothing anyway,” she shook her head. “I’ve made a nice BLT sandwich for you, do you want to eat it?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Yes, please,” Santana said gratefully, relieved that Quinn had calmed down and seemed to have forgiven her. “And, um, what is your deal with bacon? I swear every meal you make is bacon-themed.”

Quinn chuckled, and Santana never thought she could be so relieved at such a sound. “I don’t know, to be honest,” she admitted. “My parents hated it and Frannie hated it even more, so I never had any at home. Maybe that’s why it’s so valuable to me. I have loved it since I first tried it, and it’s so scarce when I was little, so maybe that’s why I use every opportunity to eat it when I have the chance.”

Santana smiled. It was a cute quirk that Quinn had, that was for sure.

“I can see why you love it,” Santana said, taking another bite of her sandwich. “This is delicious. Thank you so much.”

“I try,” Quinn smiled bashfully. “Look, um, I’ve been thinking about this the whole night and morning, and um, I kind of want you to quit your second job.”

“M-My second job?” Santana parroted, covering her mouth as she chewed.

“Yeah,” Quinn brushed a tendril of blonde hair from her face. “It’s not safe to be working so late, it’s detrimental for your health, and it makes you tired and depressed. So please quit it? I don’t mind you working at the diner, but _please_ drop the job at the bar? Please?”

“But…” Santana set her sandwich down. “I need the money.”

“You won’t,” Quinn replied. “I will help you with that, I promise. Please drop your second job, if not for yourself, for me?”

“Quinn…” Santana sighed and ducked her head. “I can’t possibly take your money, do you not know how much guilt and pressure it puts on me when I can’t pay it back? I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, seriously. I don’t need you to pay me back if I lent you any,” Quinn reassured. “Like I said, I want to help you in any way I can. I’m still trying to figure things out, but… um, please quit your second job? You won’t need it, I promise. Your health is my priority, so… um…” she twiddled with her thumbs. “Will you at least think about it?”

“Okay,” Santana said reluctantly. She really didn’t want Quinn to burden herself to help someone like her. “I’ll think about it.”

Quinn smiled. “Great!” she enthused. “And, um, stay over at mine for a few more nights? I don’t trust your roommate.”

Santana chuckled. “I would love to.”

“Awesome!” Quinn leaned forward and clasped Santana’s hand in hers. “So, the plan is, today you will have a full break, so you won’t go to work tonight either. We’ll say you’re sick,” Quinn grinned mischievously. “And while you’re supposed to work, we’ll watch a movie together, and tomorrow I would like to take you somewhere very special. Does that sound okay with you?”

Santana smiled. This was like something out of her dreams. “That sounds perfect.”

“Yay!” Quinn grinned, swinging their hands back and forth. “It’s a date!”

“Date?” Santana echoed, amused.

Quinn’s smile fell. “Oh, uh... right, um, I meant an outing between friends!”

_Outing?_

“Outing?” Santana parroted again.

“Ugh,” Quinn huffed. “Just a trip between two friends, better?”

“Sounds great.”

“Cool,” a small bashful smile appeared on Quinn’s lips again. “It’s going to be great, I promise. Now eat your food, before I eat it myself.”


	8. Part I: Chapter 8

It was Sunday, and miraculously, Santana woke up before Quinn. Maybe it had something to do with the fact she slept for fifteen hours the day before.

Since she was the only one awake at the crack of dawn, she took the liberty to stare unadulteratedly at the blonde beauty before her, whose face was completely relaxed as she took deep, calm breaths in her sleep.

It was quite adorable how Quinn would inhale through her nose in her sleep and exhale with a little puff through her lips. She looked so at peace, so tranquil that made another surge of affection rise in Santana’s body. She was pretty sure she shouldn’t stare at Quinn like this, but she couldn’t help it. Quinn was so beautiful. She wanted to caress Quinn’s lower lip with hers so badly, but she had a feeling that Quinn would not appreciate it.

Quinn’s lips jutted out in a pout as she let out another deep exhale, eyebrows creasing slightly as she started to stir from her sleep. She let out a few low groans from the back of her throat before one hazel-green eye opened, pupils constricting as light intruded her eyes.

“Hmm,” Quinn closed her eyes again and exhaled contently. “Morning, Santana.”

“Morning,” Santana replied, smiling as Quinn leaned forward and buried her head against the Latina’s shoulder. “Sleepy much today?” she jested.

“It’s early,” Quinn protested, voice muffled against Santana’s clothes.

“Quinn, it’s nine,” Santana deadpanned.

“Still early,” Quinn mumbled. “We stayed up too late last night,” she yawned. “Just five more minutes.”

To Santana, they didn’t stay up that late. They stayed up until two in the morning because Quinn made Santana binge some cheesy TV series. Two in the morning wasn’t that late for Santana, because that was her usual bedtime.

A few seconds later, Quinn’s breaths evened, falling asleep again against Santana’s shoulder. Santana could get used to this. She wondered if Quinn was this touchy-feely with everybody. Did she snuggle up to all her friends?

Santana let Quinn sleep as she stroked blonde locks absentmindedly, basking in the vanilla scent of her luscious hair.

* * *

“So, where is this ‘special place’ you were telling me you were going to take me to yesterday?” Santana asked as she put on one of Quinn’s hoodies, getting ready to leave Quinn’s apartment.

“I’m not telling you!” Quinn replied as she did her buttons with one hand while adjusting her hair against the mirror.

Quinn could do buttons with one hand? Such agile and nimble fingers… then Santana blinked the thoughts that promptly appeared away.

“Why not?” Santana pressed with a grin. “Is it that special that it would ruin everything if you told me?”

“Something like that,” Quinn huffed as she applied some eyeliner. Why Quinn needed eyeliner, Santana had no idea.

“Oh, you’re taking Santana to the fair?” a voice piped up as the door opened and somebody strode in.

Quinn jolted and fixed the person who came in with a scathing look.

“Mercedes, since when did you get back?” she growled. “You made me stab my eye!”

“Since like an hour ago,” Mercedes smirked. “You were too occupied with your ‘Sannie-bear’ to realise. Also, why did it seem like only one bed had been touched? The other two are made to perfection.”

 _Sannie-bear_? What kind of a pet name was that? It was quite endearing though.

“Uh…” Quinn trailed, cheeks red that was definitely not from the blush she was applying onto her face. “I don’t know, Santana is a very tidy person,” she tried feebly.

“Sure, sure,” Mercedes waved a hand. She then turned her attention onto Santana. “It’s good to see you, girlie. I haven’t seen you since your shift at the diner. Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah,” Santana nodded, zipping up her hoodie. “I had the best sleep in months.”

“Oh, really?” Mercedes raised an eyebrow. “Was that because you had a certain blonde cuddling up to you the whole night?”

“Mercedes!” Quinn scolded, face rose-scarlet. “Stop it! And why did you have to ruin my surprise?”

“Sorry, didn’t know it was meant to be a surprise,” Mercedes grinned, not sounding sorry at all. “My bad. Well, you girls have fun!” She waved and made to leave the room.

“Hey, Mercedes?” Santana called.

The black girl turned and looked at Santana, nodding, prompting her to keep going.

“We haven’t hung out in a while,” Santana said slowly. “So I was wondering if you would like to tag along with us? You can bring Sam with you if you want. I kind of miss you guys too.”

“San…” Quinn pouted quietly, looking a little sad from her place in the room.

“I would love to!” Mercedes beamed. “I’ll call Sam right now, it’s going to be great!” She leaned forward to hug Santana briefly before leaving the room, fishing her pockets for her phone as she strode.

“Why did you invite them?” Quinn groaned when Mercedes turned the corner and was gone.

“Why not?” Santana frowned, a little confused. “I thought they were your friends?”

“I know, but…” Quinn sighed. “Don’t worry about it. The more the merrier, right?”

“Right,” Santana nodded slowly, still a little bewildered at Quinn’s sudden change of demeanour.

* * *

“You didn’t have to buy this for me,” Santana protested as she, Quinn, Mercedes, and Sam strode down the tarmac road, colourful game stalls and rides surrounding them everywhere. She had to shout quite loudly to be able to hear herself through the loud vibrant music that was playing through the massive speakers.

“It’s nothing,” Quinn shrugged as she chewed on her candy floss. “It’s really cheap, and plus, it’s really good. Eat it,” she said, pointing at the pink cloud of sugar Santana was holding.

“If you bought Santana one, why didn’t you buy one for me?” Sam said as he walked alongside the three girls, holding a stick of candy floss too. “You made me buy my own, I thought we were meant to be lifelong friends!”

“You didn’t need me to buy you one!” Quinn scowled, seemingly still a little miffed that Mercedes and Sam had tagged along. “You have your own money, you can buy your own!”

“Santana has her money though,” Mercedes piped up, chewing her candy floss too. “I thought you gave her two twenties before we came here?”

“I-I…” Quinn faltered, then she shook her head and blinked. “Those are for the rides, not for the food!” she said hotly.

Mercedes and Sam shared a look and smirked. Santana felt she was left out of the loop; she had no idea what was going on.

“Anyway, we’ll leave you two to your peace,” Mercedes said, smiling. “We’ll rendezvous in an hour?”

Quinn looked over at Santana.

“Yeah, sure,” Quinn said, nodding. Mercedes nodded too and leaned in to whisper something to Quinn’s ear, sending a wider smile as she talked. When she finished, Quinn smiled back and thanked the black girl, before Sam took Mercedes’ hand and walked away.

“So,” Quinn enthused when the other two were out of earshot. “Now it’s just you and me, do you have any rides you want to go on in particular?”

“Uh…” Santana faltered. She wasn’t a big fan of these kinds of intense rides that made her feel her heart was going to fall out of her chest. “How about we walk around for a bit and see where that takes us?”

“Great idea!” Quinn beamed, edging closer and lacing her hand with Santana’s, humming contently as they continued walking.

Santana looked down at their interlocked hands. “Um, Quinn?” she said.

“Yeah?”

Santana gestured at their linked hands with her head questioningly.

“It’s so that you don’t get lost, silly!” Quinn smiled shyly. “If we get lost in this massive place, it would be bad!”

“But… there aren’t even that many people here. I’m sure we won’t get lost,” Santana drawled.

Quinn’s face fell. “Just… don’t question too many things, okay? Let me hold your hand, please?” she requested.

“Of course,” Santana replied, smiling back. “I like it.” She wasn’t lying. Quinn’s hands were so warm and so soft.

Quinn let out another one of those cute _hee-hee_ giggles and swung their hands back and forth.

Then something fell out of Quinn’s pocket.

“Um, Quinn, why do you have a whistle?” Santana asked as Quinn quickly picked it up from the floor and shoved it into her pocket.

Quinn bit her lip. “No reason,” she replied nonchalantly. “Come, we haven’t explored that area yet,” she said, pointing to the west side of the fairground.

* * *

“Quinn, I don’t want to go on it!” Santana whined as Quinn pouted adorably. “I said something that would be easy on my heart, you just have to choose the scariest one in the whole place?”

“This is easy on your heart!” Quinn pleaded as a carriage swung over their heads at like 100 miles per hour, passengers inside screaming their throats out. “Okay, maybe it isn’t the most… _modest_ of rides out there,” she conceded. “But it will be fun! I promise!”

Santana grimaced at the gigantic ride before her. It was called _The Storm_ , consisting of a 100-metre tall pole with a rotating thing that was also 100 metres long, with two carriages at each end. The rotating thing swung so fast, making the carriage go from a few metres above ground to max height in a matter of seconds. Santana had seen this before, heck, she had been on one with Brittany in her teenage years, and it had _not_ been good for her stomach.

“It’s not!” Santana groaned. “These things make me throw up, can we _please_ go on something that’s not so scary? Like… that?” Santana pointed at the first thing that didn’t look vaguely scary she saw, and it happened to be a merry-go-round with carousel horses.

“Seriously?” Quinn huffed. “Fine. I’ll go on it, and you can wait here for me. It’s not even that scary, you’ll get used to it after the first full rotation.”

Santana tutted, conflicted.

“Please go on it with me?” Quinn whispered, leaning in so their faces were inches apart. “It won’t be the same without you. Please?”

Ugh. Who was Santana to resist Quinn’s beautiful face?

“Alright,” she conceded. “I’ll go on it with you. Just this once, okay?”

Quinn beamed her pristine megawatt smile. “Yay!” she squealed. “You won’t regret it!” With that, she pulled Santana’s hand and led her to the ride, paying the employee to get on a carriage.

“ _Four_ dollars?” Santana grumbled as another employee came to strap them on (wanky) the seats, Quinn sitting right next to her. “What a ripoff.”

“It will be worth it, I promise,” Quinn reassured, looking over to Santana. Her short hair floated a little under the wind, making her seem like some princess walking out in slow motion in a movie or something. Ugh. That analogy was so lame. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of heights?”

Santana meant to say yes, but… “No,” Santana shook her head defiantly. “Who do you take me for? Santana Lopez has no fears.”

“That’s good to hear,” Quinn grinned as the ride started and their carriage slowly ascended. “I just want to say, thank you for coming, Santana. It means a lot to me.”

“Thanks for letting me come,” Santana managed a smile even though she was terrified. They were so high already, and they weren’t even halfway up. “Um…” Santana trailed. “How much higher do we have to go?”

“I don’t know, a lot higher,” Quinn shrugged. “I thought you weren’t scared of heights? And look, the view is amazing,” she said, pointing.

Quinn was right; the view was breathtaking. However, Santana felt she would enjoy it more if she didn’t feel so scared.

“Get ready, San,” Quinn squealed giddily as they got to the top. “This is going to be awesome!”

“Right,” Santana gulped, petrified.

The carriage was slow as they got to the apex, and Santana had to squeeze her eyes tightly shut as the carriage started to swing downwards, plummeting them at insane speeds. To add to that, the freaking carriage started spinning, sending waves of nausea everywhere.

She could vaguely register Quinn’s elated whoops and cheers from next to her. As for her… well, she couldn’t keep the screams from tearing out of her throat.

“AAAAHHHHHH!” Santana screamed as they flew at the speed of sound. “QUINN! WHY THE HELL DID YOU MAKE ME GO ON – AAAAHHHHH!”

She was sure she swung back down to the bottom of the ride within five seconds, but she was back at the top in another five seconds and she had to relive that torturous descent again.

Quinn shouted something back but Santana couldn’t hear anything but the pounding of blood in her head.

She screamed until her throat had no energy. Then she whimpered pathetically into her hands as Quinn yelled happily next to her.

* * *

“San, I’m so sorry,” Quinn apologised profusely as she held the brunette’s hair back, Santana vomiting and heaving into the toilet. “I didn’t know that the ride would make you throw up.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t even that scary,” Santana groaned through another heave of vomit. “It was terrifying!”

“I’m sorry,” Quinn pouted stroking Santana’s back as another wave of vomit shot out of Santana’s mouth. “I thought you said that you had no fears…”

“Ugh, I do,” Santana admitted, wiping her mouth. “I hate rides like this because I hate the sensation of falling. It’s always been like this, I have always been scared of it.”

Quinn sighed as she grabbed some tissue and wiped the edges of the brunette’s mouth. “I think we should call it here,” she mumbled, a little sadly. “I don’t want you to get sick again, so we should go home, and you can rest. Does that sound okay with you?”

“Yeah,” Santana swallowed some bile in her mouth and nodded gratefully. “I don’t think I will be able to withstand another ride.”

“Okay,” Quinn nodded, helping Santana to her feet and wiping her mouth with more tissue. “I’ll tell Sam and Mercedes we’re going home. Then we can do anything you want, I promise.”

Santana didn’t trust herself to speak without retching again so she merely nodded.

* * *

It was now late evening and Quinn was sitting very closely next to Santana on the couch, watching more of the same cheesy flick they had started yesterday. Santana wasn’t the sort of person who normally watched this sort of cheesy romance shows in her free time because they were all the same – boy meets girl, boy chases for girl, boy gets girl – but she found herself enjoying this one.

Probably because it was based on a sapphic couple.

She had her eyes fixed on the screen but every so often she would catch Quinn staring at her side profile. She would turn her head questioningly and Quinn would avert her gaze, mumbling unintelligible words and blushing. It was funny, to say the least: red looked good on Quinn’s cheeks.

They were halfway through the third episode when Quinn said something so quietly that Santana wasn’t sure if she actually said it or if it was a trick of the mind.

“Move in with me?”

Santana jolted and tore her eyes from the screen, staring at Quinn with wide eyes.

“What did you just say?” Santana whispered.

“U-Uh…” Quinn’s resolve seemed to break and she averted her gaze, biting her lip. “It’s nothing.”

“No, no, tell me what you said, please,” Santana pressed. She wanted to know if Quinn had actually said what Santana thought she did. Because she would rather live with Quinn and Mercedes than Rachel in her dingy and smelly apartment any day of the week, of the year.

“Um,” Quinn was nervous, to say the least. “I just said… would you like to move in with me?”

So she _did_ say what Santana thought she did.

Santana must have stayed silent in shock for a little too long, because Quinn kept going.

“It’s just that you know how you said you would feel guilty if you can’t pay me back? I just thought that if you moved in with us, you wouldn’t have to worry about your rent. With the job at the diner alone, you should be able to pay off all your bills.”

“B-But… I would have to share the rent here with you and Mercedes, wouldn’t I?”

“No,” Quinn shook her head. “Mercedes and I have it covered already, don’t worry about it. All you will have to pay is your tuition fees. ‘Cedes and I share food anyway so you won’t have to worry about that. So… will you?”

“I don’t want to intrude on you guys though,” Santana replied. “I don’t want to burden you both.”

“It’s not a burden,” Quinn instantly replied, hazel-eyes gleaming under the low light. “Even if it was, your burdens are my burdens, my responsibility. Please, move in with us, things with Mercedes are getting stale anyway and she agreed to have you here… please?”

Santana rubbed her temples and sighed. “But what about Rachel?” she asked. “I don’t want to abandon her. Even as annoying as she is, I don’t think it is fair for me to dump all the rent on her. She might not be able to pay it all.”

“I talked to her about it already,” Quinn replied.

“W-What? When? How do you have her contact details?”

“Remember when I said I was figuring things out?” Quinn said. “I was trying to arrange a new roommate for Rachel. I have her details because you have missed calls from her, so I called her at first to tell her you’re safe with me. Then I told her about your difficulties, and she told me she kind of already knew. I must confess I got a little mad at her there, because she knew all this time and didn’t help you? But then she said she only found out very recently.

“So I told her that since you couldn’t afford to pay rent, I could offer you to stay with me, and Rachel could either move in with another person or I would find someone to move in with her. Rachel told me that she would get back to me on that, and today she told me she had found someone from her faculty to be their roommate, so she said it would be okay if you moved in. It’s not all set in stone yet, you haven’t lost your place at your apartment, but I guess what I’m asking is… can you please move in with us? We have enough beds for you, you can have your own bedroom if you wish, and I can take care of you if things get tough. You won’t have to work past midnight again, Sam can pop over sometimes and we can have a good time, the four of us. Please?”

Santana pursed her lips. That was a lot of information. But then… if nothing was stopping her, why shouldn’t she? Dropping her job at the bar would do a lot to improve her quality of life, seeing Quinn’s beautiful face in the mornings would make every day before they started. It was pretty much a no-brainer.

“Okay,” Santana replied.

“Okay?” Quinn whispered back, nearly unable to believe it.

“Yeah,” Santana nodded. “Thank you so much, Quinn. I would love to.”

“Yay!” Quinn beamed and surged forward to wrap the brunette in a long bear hug. “I’m so happy, you don’t know how happy I am…”

“I can’t thank you enough,” Santana said into Quinn’s shoulder. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Quinn.”

“It’s the least I can do,” Quinn sounded suspiciously close to tears as she hugged Santana even more tightly. “I promise you things will get better for you, Santana. I will make sure of it, I promise.”

Santana nodded in response, whispering another ‘thanks’ into Quinn’s shoulder but she doubted the blonde heard it. She closed her eyes and revelled in Quinn’s luscious scent.

Her lips curved up into a wide smile, because she felt so… giddy. It was a feeling that she had forgotten.

Quinn made her so happy. And now she was going to live with her.

Her life was going to get better. She had friends who cared for her wellbeing, friends who were willing to help her should she fall behind in class or are struggling under financial strain.

She was going to quit her second job. She was going to get sleep, she was going to have free time to enjoy life again.

Quinn was the salvation that Santana desperately needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little teaser for next chapter... it will not be written in Santana's POV, so we will be able to get to know Quinn's character more intimately. And that will conclude Part I. I hope to see you then, and please, leave a comment! :)


	9. Part I: Interlude

**Quinn**

**Sep 3**

Hi!

I know I said I would never do this again, but since I am now in New Haven, nearly 700 miles away from home, I feel that I should probably briefly jot down some journal entries again to record what I do each day, how I feel, what I think, blah blah blah. Because I want a fresh start, you know? Open a new promising chapter of my life.

I don’t even know why I am being so conversational, it’s not like I’m going to be engaging with any readers because under no circumstance will I let anybody read this, but… there you go.

Today was my first day at Yale! It was extremely exciting to be going to classes, meeting new people, experiencing what Law really is. It’s harder than I thought it was going to be. But then that doesn’t mean I don’t like Law, I love it, it’s just that I can’t help but wonder what it would be like if I went to study filmography instead. But then you can’t make any money taking silly pictures of trees, so I think I made the right choice.

Plus, there isn’t enough justice in the world. I hear cases of people getting away with assault charges every day. Especially the rape ones, which makes my blood boil with fury!

I’m going off on a tangent, aren’t I?

Honestly, I think today went well. I met quite a lot of new people in my law class, I talked to a few of them and made friends with them. Sam and I met up when the morning lecture was over, and then we ran into Mercedes so we decided to get lunch together. We probably will have lunch together in the future too, as Sam and Mercedes are both not comfortable enough to have lunch with anybody else. Since they are getting along well, I wouldn’t mind us three hanging out every lunchtime.

It was a bit embarrassing how I involuntarily squealed in happiness when I saw that they were serving pigs in blanket – I mean, I kind of have this reaction towards bacon meals because they are so delicious! If Yale continues to serve bacon every day at lunch, I think I will die of happiness!

Also, this lunch I saw a girl sitting alone at the corner of the canteen. I felt a bit bad for her, because nobody deserves to be alone on their first day, so I kept an eye on her. At first, I thought she was just shy or introverted or something, but then she looked up towards my direction and I could swear my heart stopped beating.

Because she is the most beautiful girl in the whole world! Yes, I know how cliché this all sounds, but she is so beautiful. I swear she’s prettier than the world’s finest supermodels, she’s that gorgeous! One thing, though. She looked so lost, so sad, so broken that it broke my heart. I really want to go and talk to her, to try to cheer her up, but I don’t have the courage. She probably won’t appreciate my company.

I don’t think I have ever felt so drawn in and allured by a person before, let alone a girl, but… I don’t know. She’s been in my head all day and I think I’m confusing myself.

I don’t know how frequently I’m going to make these entries, but I’ll keep you updated! Not that there is any ‘you’ in the first place. I’m never going to let anybody read this. Never.

Q – 7/10

* * *

**Sep 13**

Oh my god. I talked with Santana (I finally know her name!) today, and I don’t think I could’ve embarrassed myself more.

I don’t even know if I want to recount everything in detail anymore, I don’t want to relive the mortifying experience again. I just want to bury my head in my hands and curl into a ball! Ugh, I’m so dumb at the worst of times.

So basically you know how I’ve been going on nonstop about who I dubbed ‘Shay’, whose real name is Santana? Mercedes gave me the final push I needed to go across to the other side of the canteen and talk to the beautiful girl I’ve been staring at for the past week. I don’t think words could describe how nervous I felt as I trudged towards her table, carrying my tray of food.

I was so close, and I had to take deep breaths to compose myself, practising the rehearsed lines I was about to say to Santana before of course, me being me, I had to trip on something and fall.

Thankfully, Santana was amazing enough to catch me (I still don’t know how she managed to do that). I was so embarrassed! I couldn’t even talk to her properly without blushing, she has such an effect on me which I can’t quite describe.

I have never crushed on a girl before. Oh god, I think I might be gay. I hope my mum won’t kill me when she finds out…

I don’t mind being gay though, now I think about it, even if it goes against my family’s religion. The phase of me centering my life around boys is over. I wonder what being with a girl is like. It must be nice.

I was so sure I was straight until I saw this girl. Maybe Santana has the power to turn every girl gay. She’s that beautiful.

And she’s even prettier when she smiles! Her smile melts my heart, it is such a relief to see her a little less sad than she usually is, especially when it’s because of me! She doesn’t talk much, but she has a smooth raspy tone to her voice that I love. I wonder if she’s good at singing.

We talked (or rather I talked) for the rest of lunch (still flattered she let me stay this long before kicking me out, really), and found out that she does architecture. I don’t know why, but that’s super hot! I can imagine her designing killer-ass buildings in 10 years.

I think talking to her was the best part of Yale yet, I will definitely try to talk to her tomorrow! Maybe even sit at her table before she arrives so we won’t have another awkward encounter where I fall onto her lap. She already thinks I’m a klutz, I don’t want her to think I’m a mega-klutz!

Q – 8/10

* * *

**Nov 17**

First, I apologise for my handwriting. My hands are kind of numb and shaky because I was crying.

Now, you may ask me, _Quinn, why were you crying_?

Well, because everything went wrong between me and Santana today.

You know how I have been complaining in my entries the past few days about how Santana and I are drifting apart, right? I was saying how she would rather spend time alone with herself than with me… and how much it hurts to think that she’d rather have no company than my company.

I had it all planned. I was going to take Santana out to a nice dinner at a diner with Sam and Mercedes on a double date of sorts (I know Santana and I aren’t dating, but it would be nice to pretend, you know?), so I went to the other side of campus to find the architecture section.

Santana came out after everybody else had already left, and she looked horrible. Not as in she wasn’t pretty, of course not, but there were dark circles underneath her eyes, her expression was all sorts of depression mixed into one, her limbs sagged and she slouched.

Still, being the idiot I am, I invited her to the dinner I had planned and she of course rejected. And I got mad at her. I probably said some pretty hurtful things, I don’t remember, but I think I told her I was going to leave her for real. And she let me go. And then I went to the bathroom to cry. I don’t cry very often, I don’t think, but this girl does things to me that I can’t explain.

I still went on the failed double date with Sam and Mercedes at the diner, however. I was in a pretty sulky mood the whole time, until we were about to take our orders. And our waitress was Santana. I remember being very worried and I kept on asking a lady with pigtails who had a fake name like “Sugar” for Santana, but she kept on telling me that Santana was busy. So I decided to wait at the diner, letting Sam and Mercedes leave when they wanted to. And then I got kicked out because I finished my food, so I was forced to wander around the diner, waiting for Santana’s shift to end.

And when it did, I confronted Santana and she told me everything.

I AM SO FREAKING STUPID.

She works two jobs until one in the morning, she is broken-hearted because her parents disowned her and her girlfriend abandoned her.

I _cannot_ believe the first feeling I felt when Santana told me this was happiness because I knew that Santana was at least bisexual for sure now. And I felt _so_ guilty for feeling happiness over something so petty.

How am I so dumb to have not seen this coming? Why the hell did I get mad at her? She needed so much help this whole time, and what did I do? Nothing. Stood there and watched her desperately treading water to keep herself from drowning. I might as well have eaten popcorn as I watched her struggle. I feel so bad, I feel so guilty, I feel like I failed Santana. Because I did.

I have more to say, but I’m sorry. I can’t write anymore. This is too painful; this is going to make me cry again.

Q – 5/10

* * *

**Nov 18**

Apologies for my scruffy handwriting, I’m writing very fast because Santana is sleeping right now and I really want to go back and secretly cuddle her.

She looks so peaceful when she’s sleeping. Her face is completely blank, and you can’t see the underlying sadness that is there the whole time. She is so beautiful. I want to caress her face with my fingers the whole night, but I don’t think she will find that very appropriate.

I’ve also had temptations to just lean in and kiss her in her sleep. She shouldn’t wake up because she’s so tired, right? I have never kissed a girl in my life before, and I _really_ want her to be my first. But I won’t. Because that is against everything I stand for; I am _never_ going to take advantage of anyone, let alone the person I am falling in love with.

Yes, you heard me right. I know it’s only been two months but I am falling in love with Santana Lopez. And I don’t think you know how much I would give for her to feel the same way. I just want her to give me a sign… you know? Of course I know I can just tell her, but I’m too scared to do so. She is very insecure right now, everybody she loved has abandoned her so I don’t think she trusts love very much. But that’s okay. I’ll try my best to heal her. I love her.

Santana found my “Charlie” photo album today. How she found it, I still have no idea. It’s a boring-looking book hidden between two boring textbooks, and even if she found it, why would she open it? It’s under a pseudonym.

Thank god she didn’t see too much: she didn’t see the pictures of Noah and I and some other pictures of me in Senior Year, especially the latter half of Senior Year. That was horrible, something I’m not comfortable sharing with Santana just yet. And thank god she didn’t find the picture of herself. There’s a red heart next to it… if she ever saw that, she will never look at me the same way again. Thank god I made the sandwich in time and came back to stop her. And THANK GOD she did not find this book I’m writing in right now.

I want to go back and cuddle my Sannie-bear now (I love that nickname!), so I’ll see you next time.

Q – 8/10

* * *

**Nov 26**

I know I’ve been saying this a lot, but I can’t stop crying.

Santana doesn’t know I’ve been crying though. I think I’ve been acting well to hide my pain from her. I can’t display sadness in front of her; she doesn’t need any more pain in her life.

She’s been living with me for a week now, and at first, I thought it would be the best thing, but it really isn’t as good as I had pictured in my head.

Why? Because I see Santana pretty much every single minute of every day, and every time I see her I just feel the same dull pain. The pain of my unrequited feelings.

I think I was in denial before, thinking that she may like me back. But I just have to accept the truth: she doesn’t. Even if she was vaguely interested in me, she’s not ready for another relationship anyway.

I’ve been sending her all the signs. I’ve been holding her hand, I cuddle with her in bed, I hug her all the time and we snuggle together watching movies at night. I make her food, I kiss her goodnight on the cheek and I even accidentally told her I liked her one time.

And her response? Nothing.

I’ve sent her way too many signals saying I liked her in the more than friends way that she cannot possibly miss them all. Which means she’s ignoring them. She’s ignoring them so that I would stop, because she doesn’t like me that way and my signals creep her out.

And that breaks me. I love her and she doesn’t love me back. Do you know how much that hurts?

Sometimes I wonder what is wrong with me. Why does nobody like me for me? All the relationships I had before, they liked me, _used_ me for my image as the head cheerleader. And when I quit being the head cheerleader? I became nothing. Less than nothing, actually. Those months were probably the worst of my life.

And now, in Yale when I was determined to have a fresh start, be myself and myself only, not wearing fake facades of my personality, I exposed myself to the person I like so much, only to find she doesn’t like me back.

I don’t even know what to do anymore.

Maybe it’s best if I stop, to save myself from further humiliation. But I have no idea if I can. I want her so badly. I want her to like me in that way _so_ badly, you don’t understand. Maybe I’m still in denial. Maybe I’m being stupid. But I don’t want to give up. I can’t give up.

I can’t give up.

Q – 2/10

* * *

A tear slid out of Quinn’s eyes and fell onto the page as she closed her journal after having written the latest entry. She opened the fourth drawer and put the leather book inside, locking it when she closed it again. She let out a shaky breath, trying desperately to keep her tears at bay but failing horribly.

Was this how it felt to be heartbroken? She and Santana weren’t even a thing in the first place. If it hurt this much already, how much did Santana hurt when Brittany left her? Quinn did not want to imagine it.

Santana was so strong, being able to endure that pain and work seven hours into the night under intense fatigue. Quinn could barely endure the pain that was completely negligible compared to what Santana went through.

Quinn wiped her eyes and blew her nose on some tissue paper before leaving for her room. She had made Santana sleep with her under different excuses for over a week now – maybe that should stop. Maybe she should get Santana to sleep in a separate bed from now on.

Still, that didn’t stop her from slipping into the same bed as Santana, slipping an arm over her waist, breathing in the lovely scent of her dark, luscious hair.

It let her pretend that they were dating and were in bed together, that Santana liked her back. She was happy to settle for make-believe for a bit, convincing herself of some fantasy, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. Those few seconds of bliss when she woke up to Santana’s beautiful mocha eyes, genuinely believing they were dating was worth the pain.

* * *

**Brittany**

**Late-November**

“Britt?” Mike called as he made his way into Brittany’s section of the studio.

Brittany lowered her leg from the table she had been stretching on. “Yeah, Mike? What’s the matter?”

“Um,” Mike suddenly looked hesitant. “Tina got back to me. About you know… Santana.”

Suddenly, Brittany’s heart accelerated and she felt like she could hardly breathe. Tina called Santana, and Santana picked up. Santana, the person she still loved and had no idea was where.

“A-And what did she say?” Brittany rushed forward to get closer to Mike, as if it would help him get the information she was dying for out faster. She felt these unpleasant butterflies swirling in her stomach; she was so nervous.

“Um, Britt, I just want to say that what I am about to say to you, uh… there’s a reason why I’m telling you this late. She actually picked up last week, and I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you this but I don’t think I can.”

“That’s fine,” Brittany was dying to know what Santana said. “If you can’t paraphrase it, just say exactly what she said.”

“Britt…” Mike warned. “Are you sure about this?”

“Can’t be surer,” Brittany felt as if she was going to die of anticipation. “Please tell me, Mike. I’ve been waiting for so long.”

“Okay,” Mike gulped. “First, um, Santana said she didn’t want Tina or me to tell you where she was, what she was doing, what she was majoring in, and which college she’s going to.”

Brittany’s heart sank. This was not a good start. “B-But why?” she said. “It’s not like it’s anything sensitive, I just want to know where she was… I’m so worried about her. You know where she is, don’t you?”

Mike nodded.

“Then can you please tell me at least if she is safe? She’s still in this country, right? Not in Canada, Germany… Australia…”

“I can’t tell you that, Brittany,” Mike responded. “And I don’t think you will like this either. Santana refused to give you any of her contact details… because she said that, um… she doesn’t love you anymore and doesn’t want to see or hear from you again.”

 _She doesn’t love you anymore and doesn’t want to see or hear from you again_. Mike said that very fast, but Brittany heard him alright. The words bounced in Brittany’s head, shooting shocks of immense pain in her head.

Brittany stifled a sob as she shoved a fist into her mouth. But it wasn’t enough. Within no time, a torrent of tears was cascading down Brittany’s cheeks. She couldn’t keep her whimpers, her tears of despair at bay anymore.

“I’m so sorry,” Mike whispered as he hugged Brittany close to him, Brittany crying into his chest. “I’m so sorry, Brittany.”

Brittany didn’t respond; she just kept crying.

She was so stupid. She forced Santana to come out of the closet, and when she finally did, Santana got kicked out and Brittany didn’t come back to help her.

She had abandoned Santana when Santana needed her the most. And now she was paying the price.

She had lost the best thing that had ever been hers. Santana was gone for good now, living without her, not wanting anything to do with her.

She couldn’t believe that things had ended this way. She had screwed up so hard, she had to fix it. She had to at least try to repair the unrepairable.

Even if Santana would never love her again.

Over a decade of friendship and love could not end like this. Brittany would do everything in her power to fix things with Santana. Even if it took fifty years to find her again.

She had to fix things with Santana. Or she would die trying.

**END OF PART I**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that concludes Part I! I apologise for the angsty ending to this part, I promise Part II will be a lot happier and things will look up to our favourite girls :3
> 
> I would love to hear what you thought, whether that be general thoughts of this whole part, comments on the change of POV or theories about the future ;) or critique for improvement. The comments motivate me the most :)
> 
> Now I apologise in advance if the space between updates in this story widen in the next few weeks - I have important exams coming up so I may not have the time to write. I will try my best to push out biweekly updates, but if I fail, I'm sorry! Just a heads up. Do subscribe to the story if my posting schedule gets erratic, so you get notified.
> 
> Have a nice rest of your day, everyone.


	10. Part II: Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait, it's exam season and I had to scrape some time from my revision blocks to write this. I hope you enjoy it!

**Early February**

Santana was twiddling her thumbs, occasionally flicking her pen in nervous anticipation.

She had just taken a rather important exam last week, and today she was going to get it back. She needed to do well in this one to compensate for the absolute failure she had in November, if she wanted to keep her scholarship and get good references. Needless to say, she revised her ass off the past two weeks and was now nearly vibrating with trepidation.

“Geez, Santana, will you calm down?” Kurt laughed from next to her. “I’m sure you did great.”

Santana jolted and whipped around to look at the brown-haired boy. “How would you know that, huh?” she snarked. “How would you know I did well?”

“Look, I saw you buried in books in the library last week,” Kurt shrugged. “If anything, I think you were the most prepared for the exam. I still don’t get why you are so nervous, this isn’t even the finals.”

“I need this because I don’t want to lose my scholarship,” Santana replied. “Do you know what happens if I lose it? I go back to the way I was a couple of months ago. And I would do _anything_ to not be in that hole again.”

Kurt opened his mouth to say something, but somebody else spoke up.

“Well done, Kurt,” Mr Schuester walked over and handed a stapled stack of paper to Kurt. “Very respectable score, just a few mistakes to look out for.”

Kurt took the marked paper with both hands, before Mr Schuester turned his attention to Santana.

“Santana…” he mumbled as he flicked through his collection of papers. “Here,” he pulled out her exam and set it face-down on the table. “I think that my comments inside will explain what I thought about your performance pretty well. Well done, Santana,” he said with a nod, then walked away to hand more papers to more students.

Santana knew that she was dying of anticipation to know her score, but now she got her paper she found she didn’t want to look at it. The nervousness she felt sent tingles and moths in her stomach, and she hated it.

“How did you do, Santana?” Kurt grinned as he set his paper down happily, staring at the brunette who was staring into blank space, gulping.

“Uh…” Santana looked down at her face-down exam. “You tell me first, Kurt.”

“Okay…” Kurt showed the front page with a flourish. “You see? A+! 93 percent!”

“Oh,” Santana tried to crack a small smile. “That’s great! I don’t think I got that much… I messed up the scale drawing at the end… and the trig questions…”

“Stop talking and look at your mark!” Kurt admonished. “Do it!” he encouraged when Santana was still sitting there in silence, unmoving.

Santana took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and flipped the paper over.

And there, in big red ink, read _A+_.

“You got 96 percent!” Kurt exclaimed, sounding surprised and impressed. “Geez, that’s probably top of the class!” he beamed, shaking Santana’s shoulder playfully.

“It is,” Mr Schuester cut in, hands empty after having handed out all the papers. “Well done, Santana, I always knew you could do it,” he smiled. “Your progress over the past two months has been incredible, one of the best I’ve ever seen. Keep it up.” With a final nod, he left to attend to another student who was claiming that her paper was marked wrong.

“Damn, I need to up my game now,” Kurt grinned. “I can’t lose to you ever again! I can’t get used you getting better marks than me.”

“Don’t know whether to feel offended or not by that,” Santana licked her lips, which were curving up into a smirk. “You can try to beat me, sure. All I can say to that is… good luck. You will need it.”

They stared at each other in mock rivalry for a few moments before they burst out in laughter.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Kurt picked up his laptop and got up from his seat. “Don’t get too cocky now, eh?”

“No promises,” Santana grinned. “I have the right to now.”

Kurt rolled his eyes good-naturedly before waving goodbye, leaving the lecture room.

Santana sighed happily and flipped through her paper slowly, relishing the abundance of red ticks. She couldn’t believe it, with dropping her second job everything just seemed so much… easier. She got the concepts of the coursework really quickly, she found lots of spare time and was a lot happier because she hung out with Mercedes, Sam, and Quinn a lot.

Speaking of Quinn… there was something wrong with her, Santana was pretty sure. Ever since about a month ago, after New Year’s, Quinn had acted very distant. She barely saw her anymore around their apartment, because most of the time when Santana woke up Quinn had already left, and didn’t get back until quite late.

Something was up with Quinn, and Santana couldn’t figure out what it was. And whenever she brought up a topic vaguely to do with her helping or how she was worried, Quinn would either divert or leave. Santana had no idea what to do.

Santana left the architecture block after a short while and walked towards the parking lot, feeling a vague sense of disappointment when she saw that Quinn’s car wasn’t there. Quinn didn’t even wait for her.

Santana shouldn’t have been surprised. She had to walk home alone more often than not nowadays.

After about fifteen minutes, Santana walked into the street where their apartment block was, her frown deepening when she saw that Quinn’s car wasn’t in her usual parking spot either.

She was hoping to find Quinn in her apartment sizzling bacon at the stove like she used to a couple of months ago, but she walked into an empty apartment. Mercedes was most likely at Sam’s, and Quinn was nowhere to be found.

Biting her lip in slight worry, Santana retrieved her phone from her pocket and dialled Quinn’s number. She waited for a while, but eight rings after the automated voicemail voice spoke up.

Santana sighed and clicked out of the call, dialling Mercedes’ number this time. This time, after three rings, the black girl picked up.

“Hey girlie!” Mercedes chirped. “What’s up?”

“Hey ‘Cedes,” Santana replied. “Do you know where Quinn is?”

“Quinn?” Mercedes echoed. “Why, is she not home?”

“No, and her car’s neither at campus nor here,” Santana said. “And where are you?”

“At Sam’s,” Mercedes replied, an unsurprising answer. “That’s really strange. I wouldn’t be too worried, she probably went to the public library or something. Give her a bit of time, and she should be home, okay?”

“Okay,” Santana breathed into the receiver before they bade each other goodbye, ending the call.

She walked towards the lounge and sat on the sofa, waiting for the blonde’s return for as long as she could before she was forced to go to work. She waited for forty minutes, but nobody showed up.

Blinking away the worry and disappointment from her expression, Santana went upstairs to fit herself in her waitress uniform and then left for work.

* * *

Words could not describe Santana’s relief when she saw Quinn’s car parked in the usual spot when she returned at nearly ten in the evening. Feeling a small surge of adrenaline, she ran up the stairs to their floor and opened the door, expression falling when all that met her was more darkness.

Frowning in confusion and anxiety, Santana went into various rooms of the apartment, looking for the blonde that wasn’t quite herself lately. She went into the kitchen, the bathroom, their bedrooms, but Quinn wasn’t anywhere to be found.

Santana retraced her steps and went into the lounge this time, seeing a tiny ember of light emitted from a lone candle set on the table, illuminating somebody’s ethereal face.

“Quinn?” Santana called, fumbling for the main light switch before eventually finding it. She had to blink several times as her dilated pupils constricted due to the sudden change in brightness. When she could finally see again, Santana turned to look at where the candle was, and there, she saw somebody slumped over the table, now-shoulder-length hair cascading and flowing, covering her face.

“Quinn!” Santana rushed to the blonde’s side, shaking her shoulder, which prompted the blonde to raise her head. Expressionlessly, Quinn turned her head slowly and fixed Santana straight in her eyes with a gaze that Santana couldn’t quite decipher. Her eyes were red and swollen, and there were thin, dark grey trails running down her cheeks.

“A-Are you okay?” Santana whispered. “Where have you been?”

“Out,” was all Quinn said before she tore her gaze away and stared determinedly at the wooden patterns on the table.

“Quinn… have you been crying?” Santana said softly, running a gentle hand down the blonde’s back. “What’s wrong?”

Quinn swallowed and shook her head. “N-No,” she mumbled, blowing the candle out, examining her hands which had black stains and smudges everywhere. “Nothing is wrong, Santana. And I haven’t been crying.”

“Quinn…” Santana sighed. “Why do you have mascara trails down your cheeks, then? Come on, Quinn, please tell me, I want to help you. You’ve been acting this way for a while now, and I am getting really worried. I feel that I barely see you anymore. We’re meant to be besties, no?” Santana tried with a small smile in an attempt to coax Quinn to do the same, but Quinn’s expression didn’t change at all.

“Okay, maybe I have been crying,” Quinn conceded. “But don’t worry about it, Santana, really. I’ve just been reading something sad at the library, it will all be over soon.”

“You’ve been reading something sad for a month now?” Santana raised an eyebrow sceptically. “Quinn, I think we both know that I will not buy that. You’ve been acting this way ever since New Years’, did I do something wrong? Please tell me what’s wrong, I really want to help you.”

Quinn just stared at Santana, unmoving.

“I want to help you like you helped me,” Santana’s voice dropped into a whisper, taking one of Quinn’s warm hands in hers. “Did you know that, because of you, I got top of the class in the test I was fussing about so much? Did you know that, because of you, I am no longer so miserable, I feel like my head is among the clouds? I want that for you too, Quinn, so please let me in?”

Quinn looked conflicted. She nibbled her lower lip and looked away. “T-That’s great, I’m really happy for you,” she said in a clipped tone. “But Santana, seriously, don’t worry about me. My problem is different from yours, I don’t think that anybody can help me but myself. Especially not you.”

“W-What?” Santana whispered, frowning in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What I mean is,” Quinn gritted as she slid her hand out of Santana’s hold, words detached. “You are both the only and the last person that’s able to help me.” She sighed. “Just forget it, Santana,” she said, shaking her head. “Don’t worry about me.”

“What do you mean by I’m both the only and last person –”

“I said _forget it_!” Quinn snapped harshly, making Santana jump. She took a few deep breaths, before averting her gaze again. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean to shout at you.”

She was going to say more, but then her lower lip started to tremble and another streak of a tear slid out of her left eye, trailing down her cheek. Quinn frantically wiped it away with the back of her hand, but another tear came. As she could no longer stop them from coming, she turned away so that the brunette couldn’t see her face anymore.

“Q… please don’t cry…” Santana mumbled, leaning forward to wrap her arms around the blonde’s waist in an embrace. “Quinn… you know I hate seeing you like this…”

“San, you’re not helping matters,” Quinn whimpered, voice muffled. “Please let go of me, please.”

“No,” Santana shook her head against Quinn’s back. “I know it helps, I feel a lot better when you hug me when I’m feeling sad.”

“Let go,” Quinn requested, but her voice was losing power. Santana shook her head again, holding onto Quinn tighter. “Let go…” she whispered before breaking down into choked sobs.

“I’m so sorry,” Santana mumbled as she stroked blonde locks slowly, soothingly. She had no idea what was wrong, and she couldn’t do anything about it, because Quinn was unwilling to tell her. She wanted more than anything to stop the blonde’s tears. She had always associated happiness with Quinn, because she was so perky and bubbly when they first met. And now, hearing the same happy girl’s sobs? It was heartbreaking.

In a desperate attempt to stop her tears, Santana did what her heart told her to do. She leaned forward and kissed the tears away from Quinn’s cheeks.

It was by far the most intimate thing that they had ever done together. The most they had ever done was snuggle together on the couch or in bed. But Santana didn’t care.

Quinn didn’t object immediately. Her sobbing ceased and she looked up with a wide-eyed expression, surprised at what Santana did.

Encouraged slightly by not being rejected by the blonde, Santana shifted her head and kissed the tears away from Quinn’s other cheek. It tasted a little salty, reminiscent of the pain. She felt Quinn’s breath hitch when her lips came into contact with her soft cheeks, the blonde’s eyes fluttering closed at the sensation.

It was going so well, but then:

“San, please stop, I beg you.”

Surprised, Santana leaned back and looked at Quinn’s hazel eyes, which were glazed and tears were threatening to come out again.

“Don’t do this, Santana,” Quinn whispered, closing her eyes again, squeezing a lone tear out. “Please don’t play with my feelings.”

Quinn shakily got to her feet, making her leave but Santana quickly grabbed her wrist, not letting her go.

“Quinn, please tell me what I can do to make you feel better,” Santana pleaded, feeling tears wanting to fall out of her eyes too, because Quinn’s obvious sadness was infectious. “I feel so helpless, please.”

Quinn bit her lip and glumly looked down. “I don’t know,” she whispered brokenly, shaking her head. “I really don’t know, Santana.”

Santana stifled a tear. “Well, at least spend time with me tomorrow?” she requested. “It’s Saturday, we can do something fun.”

“Don’t you get it?” Quinn whimpered. “Spending time with you is exactly the opposite of what I need.”

“B-But…” Santana faltered, hurt. “I barely see you around anymore, Quinn. I miss you. Just one day, Quinn, and then if you want me to leave you alone I will. Please, Quinn, I haven’t seen you all week. Please do something with me tomorrow?”

Quinn thought for a while, eventually sighing and nodding her head, to Santana’s relief. “Alright,” she caved. “What are we going to do?”

“Anything,” Santana replied, thinking, before an idea hit her head. “You play tennis, don’t you? We can go and play tennis tomorrow, get a bit of exercise and fresh air. That will make you feel better, I promise.”

“Okay,” Quinn nodded again. “Tennis is fine. I didn’t know you played though.”

“I don’t,” Santana smiled, grabbing one of Quinn’s hands again. Thankfully, the blonde didn’t pull it away. “So you can teach me, then destroy me in a match so that you can laugh at how bad I am,” Santana jested, feeling her mood lift when Quinn’s lips curved up too. “Okay? We’ll play tennis tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Quinn replied with a small, wistful smile before leaving in the direction of her room.

“Wait, Quinn, are you leaving?” Santana’s expression fell, striding to catch up with the blonde. “Do you want us to talk in your bedroom, is that it?”

“No,” Quinn shook her head. “I need a bit of time to myself, is that okay? I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Alright,” Santana conceded, sighing. “Sweet dreams.”

Quinn didn’t reply. She opened the door to her bedroom, switched the light on and closed the door again with a small click.

Not even a ‘goodnight’ or a ‘sweet dreams’ back.

Santana sighed and stared at her feet when the bedroom door closed. Then she walked into her own room and changed out of her waitress clothes, desperately hoping that she could find a reason behind Quinn’s sadness soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very angsty, yes. But no worries, fluff incoming, very soon! And it will all start with the tennis game Quinntana will have in the next chapter. Hope to see you then!


End file.
